The Flash: First Steps
by Al David
Summary: A new take on the origin of the Fastest Man Alive, taking inspiration from every incarnation of The Flash! Volume 1 in a Flash saga.
1. The Lightning

**A/N: I'd like to pepper you with my thoughts and wishes, but I figure that's probably best left for after the actual issue. I'm not going to pique your interest with my author note. So, I'll just request one thing. Please review. If you like this chapter, please, please, **_**please **_**review.**

**Thank you, and without further ado…**

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 1 – The Lightning

_My name is Barry Allen and I'm…getting ahead of myself. Before I tell you my story, I have to ask: can you just take a second and imagine a world where the impossible is possible? Good, because you're about to get the wake up call of your life. _

_That segues nicely, actually, into where my story begins. My parents' lives changed forever when they received the wake up call of _their _lives. Is it hyperbole? Sure, but it's probably not as ridiculous as you think. _

_Let me put it this way. From the day I was born, I've had a habit of being late. That's right. You guessed it. My mother was in labor for over…no? Don't want to know the grimy details? ...Fine. Moving on. _

_My first memory was an image…no, an event I would become far too acquainted with. It started on a summer night over twenty years ago during one of my parents' annual visits to my Grandpa Don's house in rural Kansas._

…

"Henry! Hurry!" Nora Allen squinted to make out her husband in the downpour. Even with the aid of lightning to illuminate the sky, she couldn't see more than his silhouette on the yellowing plains. The bundle in his arms was nothing more than a preconceived fact to her. There was no way Henry would leave their toddler son out in the storm.

"HENRY!" Nora cried out as lightning crashed behind him. He was the tallest target on the prairie with the noted exception of the house Nora currently had taken shelter in.

Henry must have heard his wife's screams even with thunder deafening his ears because the man slowed for just a second, fear and confusion in his eyes. Then he slipped. His lapse of concentration resulted in an event that would change the course of their lives.

Henry managed to twist onto his back before hitting the ground, seemingly protecting his son. However, the force of the fall caused him to lose his grip on the crying, blonde-haired toddler in his arms, and Barry Allen skidded out onto the prairie.

…

_All I saw was a flash, and then searing pain erupted throughout my body. _

…

"Barry! No, Barry, look at me, son!" Henry held his child in his arms. The badly burnt boy hadn't even started to cry yet, merely whimpering, his eyes glued to the sky. "Look at me, son!"

Barry still didn't respond. Henry scowled and began his sprint to the house while Nora screamed louder than the thunder could roar.

"We have to get him into the city!" Henry said. Shaking but in control, Nora nodded.

"Get my Dad. I'll swing the car around," Nora stated firmly. Henry took off without a second thought.

…

_The worst part came when the pain left my legs. That wasn't one hour into my suffering or one day. That was one second. Before my father even reached me I'd lost most of the feeling below my waist. At the time, I wasn't even sure what that meant. All I knew was that something was very, very wrong with me. _

_I think it shouldn't come as a surprise that being fast has never been a priority for me.  
_

…

"I'm afraid, Mrs. Allen, that your son, Barry, will never be able to walk—let alone run—in his life."

…

_In fact, it was little more than a dream. _

…

"It appears that the lightning that struck him not only burned much of his body, but left his central nervous system in disrepair. He's lucky to have escaped with control of his upper extremities. His legs, however…? Well, I've said it already. Barry will never be able to walk."

Doctor Terrence Newark, a spry old man with a full head of hair and near-perfect complexion, delivered the bad news with the utmost class. That meant confirming for a fact that the case of the young paraplegic before him wasn't completely hopeless.

"Not without help anyway. He will need these." Dr. Newark turned to his desk and produced two forearms crutches. They were far too big for the toddler, but they got the point across.

Nora Allen, her face already half shrouded by her dark hair, covered her mouth with her hand in shock.

…

_That's not exactly the type of news a 21-year-old who'd dropped out of college to raise her son wants to hear, huh? To be fair, that's not news anyone wants to hear. _

…

Nora bit her lip to hold back tears and wrapped her arm around her son. Barry tried to squirm out of her grasp, but did not succeed. This mother wasn't letting her son go for the world.

Barely containing her emotions, Nora looked up at Dr. Newark and asked, "And his brain?"

Dr. Newark smiled. Nora couldn't quite be sure what that meant. The doctor himself considered what to say for a moment, before going with something only he found amusing.

"That's the irony in all this, Mrs. Allen. Your son's brain is unharmed. In fact, upon our initial scans it appears to be functioning at a level beyond other children's his age," Newark paused, looked at the ground and then back at the shocked Nora with a Cheshire grin, "Even if he won't be winning gold in the Olympics, Barry will still outrace all his colleagues in the classroom."

"The lightning…?"

"No, I think your son was born with…that capacity," Dr. Newark admitted.

Nora was too surprised to comment. Instead of making a retort to the doctor's rude quip or thanking God for what little miracle He gave her, she simply cradled her son and silently rocked him back and forth.

Dr. Newark observed the touching scene for but a moment before adding, "And about payment…"

A glare was all he received in response.

"Yes, we'll, um, discuss that later," Dr. Newark quickly decided. He then left the room, allowing the mother and her child to be alone for a short time. Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" played softly in the background, keeping the young mother from feeling entirely alone and helpless.

"Barry, my sweet Barry, everything's going to be fine," Nora continued to rock her son. The boy himself remained quiet, simply staring out the window at the still-raging storm outside.

Lightning flashed and reflected on the boy's eyes, but even with the constant reminder of his accident, Barry remained unafraid.

…

_The lightning changed me then, just as it would dozens of years later. Again, I'm getting ahead of myself._

_I struggled through learning to walk with crutches, but what really killed me wasn't the pain or the therapy; I couldn't stand the embarrassment. My teenage years…my God, they were awful. _

…

"Ready. Set. Go!"

Two boys took off down the field, racing to see who would reach their friend first. Just like millions of children before them, the 6th graders at Driver Elementary had adopted the race as their recess game of choice. Halfway through the course, the taller, darker-skinned boy—Daniel West—had taken the lead. To his friend and rival, that just wouldn't pass.

Managing to catch up for a moment, the red headed twelve-year-old known as Harley Wilson pushed Daniel, causing the brunet to tumble to the ground. Their teacher's attention diverted elsewhere—namely a newspaper with the heading "U.S. Takes Baghdad"—the bad sportsmanship went without punishment. However, it did not go unnoticed.

"Hey!" Barry Allen set down his comic book and struggled onto his feet with the help of his crutches, "Hey, Harley!"

Harley had long since finished the race and Daniel had managed to stand back up, his knees scraped. Barry picked up his comic and started limping towards Harley, who still ignored him.

"Harley!" Barry shouted again.

Harley's friend whispered something into his ear, but the boy shook it off. He turned to Barry.

"What do you want, crip?" Harley retorted.

"I want you to race fair. That was cheating!" Barry said, pointing to Daniel. The brunet had jogged over to the rising conflict and stepped between the blond cripple and his friend.

"Relax, Allen. We're just screwing around. I'm not mad," Daniel promised.

"Are you—are you sure?" Barry asked, embarrassment already rising to the surface. This is what happens when you try to do the right thing, he thought to himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now just go limp your way back to that comic book, yeah?" Daniel teased. Barry blushed and tried to hide the comic behind himself.

"Hey, what is that, anyway? Looks decent," Harley stepped around Barry, and before the boy could pull away he took the comic.

"Give that back!" Barry demanded, inching towards Harley. Daniel stopped him, stepping between the two again with a smirk.

"Flash Comics #89?" Harley scanned the comic book, "Fastest Man Alive? The Fiddler? Lame!" The bully tore out a page.

"Stop!" Barry tried to step around Daniel and grab the comic, but the bully's accomplice knocked him to the ground. Tears threatening to come to the surface, the young crippled boy shook with rage and shame. He wasn't sure what to do.

…

_In that moment, I needed a hero. I needed someone like the Flash._

…

"Harley Wilson!" Iris West, a gorgeous, tan brunette, marched up to the bully and his friends. Expression determined and hands clenched into fists, neither Daniel nor Jerry—the fourth boy—got between Iris and Harley.

"Hey, relax, Iris. It was a joke," Harley hurriedly promised, tossing the comic and its torn pages back to Barry, "See? The nerd can have his book if he wants it."

That was not the right response to give as Harley soon found out. The bully got a face full of dirt _after_ he got a face full of Iris' fist.

…

_Before that moment I'd had a crush on Iris, but from then onwards I was in love with her!_

…

"Iris!" Daniel exclaimed.

Iris turned to her brother, who at this point in puberty happened to be shorter than her, "Shut up, Danny, unless you want Dad to hear about this!"

"No, no, I was just, uh, gonna say Harley totally deserved that," Daniel said. He looked down at his friend apologetically. Harley in turn gave Daniel a look that he knew meant he was going to get it later on.

"Sure," Iris crossed her arms, "Just get out of here—all of you."

"Bitch," Harley muttered as he ran off, followed by the other boys.

Once the bullies were gone, Iris turned to Barry and held out her hand. Face flushed and unable to meet her gaze, Barry reluctantly took her hand. Iris heaved the blond onto his feet and helped him get his balance with his crutches.

"Th—thanks," Barry stuttered.

"No problem," Iris replied.

"Sorry about that," Barry said.

"Are you kidding? It's not your fault they're jerks," Iris pointed out.

"Yeah, but if I hadn't gotten involved…" Barry looked at the ground, expression dark. Iris paused, smiled and raised Barry's chin so he looked her in the eyes.

"Standing up for someone who can't—or won't—do it for themselves is_ not_ a problem; it's nice. You're a nice guy, Barry. There's definitely nothing wrong with that," Iris said. Barry glanced away, his cheeks as red as the costume of his favorite superhero. Speaking of…

"The Flash?" Iris picked up the comic book for Barry. Until then, the boy had forgotten about it. He looked first at the book and then at Iris, unsure of what to say.

"It's not mine. I was just, uh…" Barry began.

"I love the Flash," Iris grinned, holding the comic out. Barry's face slowly lit up like a light bulb. He took the comic.

"See you around, Barry," Iris bid goodbye and walked back towards her friends, who'd huddled into a semicircle near the school. Barry, meanwhile, stared at her as she proudly strutted away, remaining flabbergasted at the mere existence of someone like Iris West. Far too late did Barry realize he hadn't said goodbye.

"Bye! I mean…shoot." Barry frowned. It was going to be a long day.

…

_I just had no idea how long. _

_After school, I waited nearly an hour for my mother to pick me up. She never came. I knew my Dad wouldn't be the one to show up as he had a get together at a bar for the retirement of his partner in the force. Cops held parties like no other. He wouldn't be free till late that night. _

_So I walked home alone. It was a rather uneventful trip. I wasn't mugged. I never tripped. My backpack never seemed too heavy. Walking home alone wasn't the problem._

_It was what I found when I got home that was horrible._

…

Barry unlocked the front door with the key his parents kept under a flowerpot on the front porch. He swung the door open.

"Mom!" No answer. Barry continued on into the living room and dropped off his backpack. "Mooom!"

For a second, Barry was afraid his mother had left to get him at school, and he'd sent her on a wild goose chase, but one quick look inside the garage was all he needed to make sure her car was in fact parked at home. Panic began to arise in him as his chest tightened. Barry hurried into the dining room.

"_Mom!_" he called again. Still no response.

Barry limped into the kitchen. That's where he found her. Nora Allen was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. _Her_ blood. Barry gulped back tears. He couldn't be seeing this. This couldn't be real. His mother could not be dead.

…

_That was the day I lost my mother. _

_After finding the body, I immediately hurried to the phone and called the police. They showed up minutes later. It was too late by then. My mom had been dead long before even I showed up at the house. Forensic scientists would later determine she died about 50 minutes before she was supposed to get me. _

_That was also nearly an hour too late for my father to be a suspect, thank God. The cops questioned him first, but everyone backed up his story. He'd been at the retirement party all afternoon. That left no suspects, and even worse there were no clues. No murder weapons, no fingerprints, no signs of a struggle. Everything about it was impossible. _

_The case was cold from day one._

_I was determined to solve it from day one._

…

"You sure about this?" Henry Allen asked his son one last time, pulling in front of the red-brick dorm building that would be Barry's home for the year to come.

"Of course, Dad," Barry said, already grabbing his crutches and unlocking the car door. Before he could leave though, his father relocked the door. Barry sighed.

"You don't feel pressured into this?" Henry pushed.

"For the last time, no," Barry continued, unlocking the door again, "Now can you please—"

_CLICK! _ The door locked again. Barry, frustrated, looked at his father.

"Look, Dad, I'm going to study forensic science of my own volition—" Barry promised.

"At Keystone City University? So close to home?"

"Yes! Now please, let me go!" Barry demanded, unlocking the door one last time. Even with his son out of the car, Henry still wouldn't let the subject die. He rolled down the window.

"This isn't because of your mother, is it?" Henry really started to press Barry's buttons. The young soon-to-be college student whirled around as quickly as he could on crutches and looked his father in the eye.

"No," Barry lied, and then continued with a half-truth, "I'm doing this because I want to help people. Since I can't be a detective, or a fireman, or—or any of the dozen jobs that require you can actually use your freaking legs, I decided to become a forensics scientist." Barry paused and then added, "It also helps I'm kind of good at this stuff."

Henry laughed, "That you are." Before Barry could continue, Henry said, "But please remember, Barry, to not let your life live you. It's the little things, the little moments, and the decisions you make that define you."

The warning—or maybe it was a teaching—and its subtext did not go unnoticed by Barry. He glanced at the ground.

Henry smiled, "Don't worry. Bare, I know you'll make the right decisions. You're a good man. Nothing will change that. It's who you are."

Barry looked up, grinning, "It's who you and mom raised me to be."

Henry blushed, "I think your mom had a little more to do with that than I did."

"Whatever you say, Dad," Barry teased.

Then without warning silence fell over the two. Neither moved. It was like something had changed in the atmosphere. The times were changing. Reality hit the Allens again.

Barry nodded towards the car. Henry frowned. Barry nodded more conspicuously and cleared his throat.

"What is it, son?" Henry asked.

"Dad," Barry took a deep breath and calmed himself, "Can you _please _help me move my stuff into my dorm?"

"Oh…right."

…

**5 Years Later**

Barry Allen stood in front of his four-room apartment's bathroom's mirror. His blond hair was styled up, his skin was relatively flawless—for the day, at least—and his blue suit and white button up had been pressed to perfection. Things were looking good. _He _was looking good.

"Welcome home, Barry," he whispered to himself, an excited smile plastered on his face.

Before Barry could proudly march—or whatever was the best he could do requiring crutches—his way out to unpack more boxes, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Barry took it out and looked at it. It was an alert. 'FIRST DAY - 8:00 AM.'

"Shoot," Barry muttered, flipping through his phone until he reached his contacts, then his favorites, and lastly his father. As if on cue, before he could click anything, his phone's screen changed and it began vibrating to alert him that he was being called. 'DAD' lit up the screen.

Barry answered, "Hey! What's up?"

"I'm downstairs. Hurry up. Work starts in ten," Henry said on the other end of the line.

Barry balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder and began to hurry out of the bathroom. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm on my way down. Bye."

If only he hadn't waited for his father then maybe...No, who was Barry kidding? It was sweet that his father wanted to drive with him to work. Even at the age of 24, Barry loved a little father-son bonding. After all, Henry was all he had.

Barry stopped at the door and turned to the left half of the living room, a clean and well-kept work area—his roommate's work area—the action to Barry's messy, box-filled reaction. A thin, Native American man about Barry's age was seated at a desk, focusing intently on his laptop, headphones covering his ears.

"Hey! Max! I'm heading out now!" Barry tried to speak loud enough that Max could hear. His roommate didn't respond. Barry couldn't tell whether he couldn't hear him or he chose to ignore him. Either way it was nothing new.

Barry's smile dimmed a bit as he nodded, expecting that reaction. Two days since moving in and nothing had changed. He didn't even know what Max did for a living, or if he ever got up to go the bathroom. The only reason Barry knew he ate at all was because of the bag of Cheetos he'd spied on his first night in when Max assumedly thought Barry was asleep.

"Bye…" Barry said, opening the door and leaving the apartment.

…

_Forensics science and through it the Central City Police Department were my tickets to breaking my mother's case. I'd studied more than my fair share of crazy, metaphysical cases in college, and even in high school before I had anything resembling a decent handling on the study of forensics. Of course, I still wasn't close to solving my mother's murder. Even worse, I wasn't sure if this is what she would have wanted. _

…

"This is what your mother would have wanted," Henry declared, paying the taxi driver with a handful of bills. Barry, dressed in a white button up and blue suit sans tie, smirked at his father's comment.

"Really? Just a few years ago you were on the fence about my joining the CCPD," Barry teased.

Henry, eyes bright with amusement, turned to his son and said, "I changed my mind. Now, c'mon, Bare. We're already late enough as is."

Henry tried to help his son up the steps to the precinct, but Barry wouldn't have it. He shook his father off and hobbled up the steps one at a time. Even putting in the extra effort to walk up stairs, Barry managed to continue goading his father.

"Really? My father—Henry Allen—changed his mind? Maybe the party after work should be for you, Dad, because this is a once in a decade occasion," Barry joked, reaching the door. Henry halted at the entrance.

"No, Bare, this is a once in a lifetime event. I get to watch my son become a police officer and fight the good fight," Henry said. Stopping Barry before he could respond, the proud father of an ecstatic son reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small blue box, "Now, before we get to work I have something for you."

"Dad, you didn't have to…"

"No, but I wanted to," Henry promised. He handed the box to Barry, who happily took it. "Open it."

Barry looked down at the box with glistening eyes. The handwriting on the label was in fine, clean cursive, the 'y' in Barry circling around to underline rest of the name. His father never wrote in cursive. Only one person curved a 'y' like that.

"It's one of mom's labels," Barry said, struggling to hold back tears.

"I found a few when we were packing your things for college. Now, Barry…"

"Alright," Barry chuckled, "I'm opening it." He lifted off the top of the box to find a crimson bow tie.

Barry looked up at his father, "A bow tie?"

"You should look nice on the job, Bare," Henry said, and then after another incredulous look added, "It's a clip on, so you won't have to sweat tying it."

"I love your belief in my tie tying abilities," Barry grinned a perfect, toothy white grin, "_And_ I love it."

Henry's expression matched his son's, "You have no idea how happy that makes me feel."

And without further wait, Henry opened the door for his son, allowing him to lead the way inside to a new job, a new day, and a lot of handshakes.

…

_The following few hours defined what would become a definitive day for me as a police officer. After the pseudo-celebration that consisted mostly of my dad's old friends congratulating me and promising to buy my drink later that night, I found myself thrown headfirst into the crime lab at Central City._

…

Barry opened the door to the forensics department and walked with the support of his crutches into a room where all eyes ended up on him. Even worse, those eyes directed something Barry had come to recognize all too well: hostility. He hadn't even been on the job for an hour and people already disliked him.

"What's with all the Frankensteining?" Barry's weak joke was directed at the incessant use of lab coats, but the other scientists seemed to take it another way. Barry tried to shrink back into himself, but he went far from unnoticed.

"Allen!" A tall, tan-skinned, dark-haired man approached Barry with what the young man could only imagine was a perpetual scowl on his face, "I'm David Singh, the director of the crime lab."

"It's nice to meet you." Barry held his hand out to be shaken, but Singh didn't even bother to look at it.

The lab director continued, "I hear from your father that you're a golden boy, a top of the line recruit. Prove it."

Singh shoved a file into Barry's hands. The new forensics recruit looked down at the green folder in his hands and back up at Singh.

"Don't I need my supervisor's…um, supervision before getting started on a case?" Barry asked.

Singh smirked, "You really are a golden boy, huh? I offer you a chance to prove yourself on your first day here and you turn me down."

"The department requires—"

"Nothing, Allen. We require nothing. That isn't the way we do things here in Central City. We don't have the time to slow down and teach new recruits the ropes. Now get to it," Singh stated. He marched off before Barry could even respond, leaving the young man to bumble his way to an open desk.

It felt wrong to Barry to break the standard code of conduct. There were rules. Rules were meant to be followed. Shame and confusion would've driven him up the wall if he hadn't already been overwhelmed with embarrassment and frustration by the whispers his fellow scientists thought he couldn't hear.

"…Just got the job 'cause he's Allen's kid…"

"…what's a cripple doing on the force…"

"…bet he doesn't know his dog hair from his cat hair…"

"…got a work-in-progress on our hands…"

"…entitled prick. Who does he think he is coming in here and…"

"Allen. Hey, Allen," Barry shook himself out of his daydream state and turned his attention from the whispers around him to a beautiful blonde sitting at the desk next to him.

"Oh, uh, hi," Barry managed, still a bit dazed.

"Patty Spivot," the blonde introduced, holding one hand out and simultaneously adjusting her wide-rimmed glasses with the other.

"Barry Allen," the young man said, shaking her hand. Patty smirked. Barry glanced away and rubbed the back of his head embarrassedly. "But you already know that."

"Don't worry about it," Patty replied with a smile—a genuine smile. Barry welcomed that with one of his own. "Just like you shouldn't worry about them."

Patty nudged her head at the scientists around them. Most had turned back to their work but a few still glared at Barry out of the corner of their eyes.

"They feel threatened by you, that's all. They hear that someone—some guy with more talent in his pinky than they have in their entire body—is coming in, and this guy also happens to be a hero's son….well, you can imagine," Patty explained, facing her desk again. She began to type into her computer, but it was clear by the speed at which she typed—incredibly slowly—that she was still focused on Barry.

"My dad—I mean, Henry is a hero?" Barry asked. His father had never told him about that. Barry had always assumed he was a run-of-the-mill detective.

"Oh yeah. Really? You don't know?" Patty inquired. Upon Barry's lack of a response, she continued, "He and his partner solved the Mardon case. You see, these brothers had—"

"Been smuggling in all the drugs for the cartel for years until, what, twenty-eleven when they got caught. I heard about it on the News, but they never named who was responsible for the Mardons' capture. You're saying Henry…?" Barry said.

"And his partner found them, stopped them and shut down their whole operation," Patty nodded, "His partner's now the Captain of this precinct. Your father on the other hand wanted to keep it on the DL. Nothing's public, but everyone in blue knows him for the hero he is."

"His partner is the Captain? You're saying Joe West was my dad's partner?" Barry's voice began to carry, drawing glares from his coworkers. He didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to keep quiet. There was so much his father had kept from him. What else did Barry not know?

Before Patty could shush him, the doors to the lab opened and in walked a tall, well built African-American man dressed in a clean black suit, and a shorter, skinnier young man who looked as if he could be the taller one's son—for good reason too.

"Speak of the devil," Patty whispered.

The thicker man was Joe West, captain of the downtown precinct. The shorter cop was someone else Barry knew all too well: Joe's son and Barry's one-time tormentor, Daniel.

Singh greeted the two police officers immediately upon their entry. After a brief heated discussion, the director reluctantly pointed to Barry. The new recruit glanced around to see if he'd made a mistake, to see if the Captain was in fact looking at someone else, but none of his coworkers remained even moderately close to him. In fact, even Patty had made it her mission to separate herself from him as much as possible, turning her attention back to her computer and typing furiously into it.

Joe and Daniel marched right towards Barry. The blond took a deep breath and straightened his suit and bow tie. He looked at Patty, but she refused to look back at him. He glanced back at the Wests. They were just seconds from reaching him. Barry stood up to greet them.

"Captain West, Detective, er, West," Barry greeted. Daniel held out his hand, a smile on his face. Joe, on the other hand, remained grim.

"Congrats, Barry. It's great to have you in the precinct," Daniel said. Barry shook his hand.

"Thanks, Detective."

"Please, just call me Dan," the brunet said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"So, what can I do for you two?" Barry asked, clasping his hands together. Sweat beaded down his neck as he waited what felt like an eternity for a response.

"There's been a murder, Barry." Joe explained.

"And you want me on the job?" The idea sounded as ludicrous to Barry as it did to the scientists around him.

"You don't understand. We wouldn't want to put this on you—especially on your first day—under any ordinary circumstances," Daniel said.

Joe continued, "The scene, the victim, the lack of evidence, everything is just like the day your mother was murdered, Barry."

The blonde's jaw dropped. He knew where this was headed, but it couldn't be true…there'd been another murder like his mother's?

"The case is impossible, and Henry has told me you've studied impossible cases since the day your mother died. That's why we need you."

"A minor in metahuman physics certainly doesn't hurt either," Daniel threw in.

"So, Barry, will you help us solve this case?" Joe asked.

The young forensic scientist gripped his crutches so tightly his knuckles turned white. A smile danced across his lips. Eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, Barry Allen had only one thing to say in response.

"You had me at 'impossible.'"

…

**I just wanted to say (or write) a few words about the title. **

**I've wanted to write something Flash-related for a long time now, far longer than the show's debut, or Barry Allen's first appearance on Arrow. My love for the Flash extends back to the Justice League cartoons and later on my read through of the Wally West Flash runs. Naturally, you'd think that would make me inclined to Wally as opposed to Barry, but that's not the case. I've always liked Barry Allen for a number of reasons: his Captain America/Superman-esque drive to do good, his nerdy personality, the irony of his faults (being habitually late comes to mind), among other things. To me, the Flashes in general were the "Spider-Man/Men" of the DC Universe, and combined with sleek costumes (well, except Jay's) and incredibly cool speed powers they quite easily took top spot for my favorite family of characters in comics. **

**Despite my great love for the Flashes, until recently I never had the story idea or the free time to write a Flash fic. I'd been busy with other sites (see my homepage for more details). Now, I have both. That's where the story comes in. The description says it all. This is an origin story in the vein of Ultimate Spider-Man's first arc, or the Earth One graphic novels. Namely it's a slow burn, putting character first. However, that does not preclude a lot of action or a compelling villain! Both are coming; just wait.**

**Anyway, thank you for spending time to read the first part in this story! I promise I'll get back to anyone who drops a review! **

**Until next time, True Believers!**

_**-Drake**_


	2. The Impossible Case

**A/N: So, I realize this is way later than any of you guys (or I) expected, but here's issue #2! Also, I really want to thank all of you! The title's been a huge success so far. I only expected 2 or 3 reviews, but to basically double that…well, thanks!**

**Ilariamoonie: Thanks for reviewing! I love the CCPD characters too and you can expect to see a lot of them in the future! **

**Marvel11611: Yeah, my big goal as far as writing goes with this story is to really work on putting the characters first and developing the story around them. It's a lot harder than just plotting something with a few great character moments, because practically every scene is a 'character moment'. That's part of the reason why this is so late. I'm really trying to make this great, so it's tough to just sit down and hammer stuff out. **

**Spiderman1fan: Thanks for reviewing! **

**Guest: Yeah, I thought it would be interesting (and admittedly amusing…what can I say? I'm evil) approaching Barry from that angle. It really humbles him further, and gives a very realistic reasoning for why he develops into such a boy scout, nice guy. He appreciates what he's got. **

**Heart of the Demons: Thanks for all the support! I don't know if I'm really that fast, even with all the titles I'm writing. I guess, like Barry, I have a habit of being late, hahaha! **

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 2 – The Impossible Case

The murder in question proved to be eerily similar to Barry's mother's murder, at least at first glance. It took place in the middle of Central City suburbia in a small, two story house all too similar to Barry's childhood home. The trek past curious neighbors and yellow tape reminded Barry of when he had been pulled from beside his mother's corpse and into a police car by his father. Even the victim, as it turned out, was all too similar to Nora Allen.

"Worked as a waitress, early thirties, brunette. Jeez," Barry muttered, reading the report.

Joe and Daniel West walked with him up to the house. All three slipped on gloves and Barry handed the report to a fellow CSI assistant before adding an additional plastic cover over his crutches. The three police officers entered the crime scene through the open doorway, the door itself blown off its hinges by the first responders.

"We're not your dad, Barry. You can cut a little loose," Daniel teased, only half joking.

"Danny…" Joe warned.

"What? We're old friends. You were his dad's partner. He shouldn't be afraid to expand his vocabulary beyond 'gosh,' 'golly,' and 'darn' around us," Daniel stated.

"Actually, I just prefer not to cuss," Barry said, only partly listening in on the conversation. Most of his attention was focused on the crime scene around him. Even still, he managed to add an additional, "Usually."

Daniel rolled his eyes at that comment, but didn't continue. Joe glared at his son for a moment before turning back to the scene at hand. He felt—for obvious reasons—it was necessary to change the subject.

"I really am sorry to drag you out here, Barry. I realize the victim, the entire scene, might be difficult to handle," Joe admitted. "Honestly, if we had anyone else in the department with experience with this type of case, I wouldn't have hesitated to save you the trouble."

"It's fine, really. Great, even," Barry leaned over the corpse to examine it, before realizing what he said. He shook his head. "Not the murder. The—"

"Case?" Daniel helped, before teasingly adding, "The murder case."

"No. Yes. I don't know," Barry stammered.

"Tell me what you do know," Joe requested, yet again forced to change the subject.

Barry nodded. This he could handle. "Victim died from blood loss from a single stab wound. At first glance, I'd guess the murder weapon was about six inches long. The angle of the wound dictates that the murderer has to be taller than the victim, maybe five-foot-ten, five-eleven."

Daniel glanced at his father and nodded, impressed. Joe smirked.

Barry continued on further into the crime scene away from the body. Everything seemed prim and proper. "No signs of a struggle, meaning the victim was killed quickly. That's odd, though. Stab wounds never result in an immediate death. The victim should have had time to call 911 or leave a message."

"Unless she wasn't murdered here," Daniel added.

Barry looked back at the two Wests, curious. "The report stated Ms…Rory, correct?" Joe confirmed the statement with a nod. "Ms. Rory's neighbors claim she never left her home during the day she was murdered. Saturday?" Joe nodded again. "So no work. It adds up."

"Reports like that tend to be unreliable. It's not like they watched her 24/7. Unless, of course, one of them is the murderer, in which case their report is definitely unreliable," Daniel noted.

"True, but that point's moot when you consider that the door and each window were locked from the inside. Nothing was broken. It would have been impossible for anyone to enter or exit," Barry glanced at the captain, "You did check the house over, right?"

Joe glared at Barry incredulously, which was an answer in and of itself. The young CSI assistant gulped and continued, "So, there's no serious evidence, no clues, nothing? The report is accurate?"

"Yes, Barry," Joe agreed, slowly growing impatient.

"I don't believe that," Barry stated.

Daniel frowned. "Which part?"

Barry grinned, slightly amused, but quickly flipped his smile upside down as the others remained cold and quiet. They were detectives after all. This was the scene of a crime—a murder, no less.

"There has to be a clue somewhere," Barry explained. "I firmly believe that was the case with my mother's murder too. Nobody knew where to look or what to look for, is all."

Barry looked around the room. Sure, there was no murder weapon, no fingerprints, no hint as to how the murderer could have entered or killed the victim, etc. There were no traditional clues. That didn't prove anything.

That's when something caught Barry's eye. He pointed to the ceiling. "The lights were off when Ms. Rory was found?"

Joe glanced at the ceiling, confused, and nodded, "We try to keep the crime scene as similar as possible to when the crime was committed."

"But the lights were off when she was found, correct?" Barry reaffirmed.

Joe frowned. "Yes. That's what I said."

Barry smirked. "With all due respect, sir, no, it wasn't. Daniel, turn the lights on."

Daniel looked at his father for approval. Joe nodded. Daniel walked over to the light switch and flipped it. The lights flickered on and the three looked around the room for any clues that would present themselves.

"I can't be the only one who sees that, right?" Barry asked, looking towards the ceiling at the edge of the room near a window.

Joe took a step towards Barry, matching his gaze, "Oh yeah. I see it."

"Um...what? It's a fried light bulb," Daniel admitted. "All it means is the victim either couldn't afford to replace it, or just plain didn't care."

"There are no coincidences, Daniel. First rule of being a detective," Joe said.

"This isn't a coincidence. It's—"

"A clue," Barry interjected. Daniel ran a hand through his hair, but allowed the CSI to continue. "I guarantee when the autopsy is complete, we'll discover Ms. Rory was murdered in the nighttime. Most people—nearly 95%, in fact—have horrible night vision, and therefore need lights at night to see. The murderer turned off the lights to hide that light bulb—that clue."

"That's a big 'if' there, Barry. What if the autopsy report shows she died during the day?" Daniel asked.

"That still doesn't preclude the idea that she'd have the lights on."

"It's a fried bulb. There's no way it has anything to do with a stabbing. It's impossible."

"Yes, and you asked me to examine this case because I believe in the impossible," Barry retorted. However, even he had doubts. The forensics scientist turned to look at Joe. "Dan's got a point, though. It's unlikely. Send in an actual CSI. I'll go investigate elsewhere."

"I don't want you off this case, Barry," Joe said.

"Oh, I'm not dropping this case for the world. I have a lead, and I'm going to see it all the way through. That means I need to stop by STAR Labs," Barry explained.

Joe wasn't quite sure how to take that statement. The organization wasn't exactly known for forensics work. Either way… "Fine. But until you have more to go on, we'll have to keep this between the three of us."

"Keep what between us? What the hell is going on?" Daniel asked, completely lost.

Barry began to limp out of the room. "Our two clues are that the murderer could not have entered through any ordinary, feasible entrance, and the fried light bulb."

"You think they entered through a light?" Daniel muttered, dumbfounded.

"No, but I think that in the process of their…" Barry struggled for the right words. "Superhuman entry, they blew out the bulb."

"Great. Super science. Next you'll tell me Gotham's Bat-Man is real," Daniel grumbled.

Barry shrugged. "Actually…"

Before he could continue, or Daniel could interrupt, a man stormed into the house. The intruder in question was about Dan's height, so close to six feet tall, had deeply tanned skin, and long, scraggly black hair that made it seem like he hadn't gotten it cut in months. He practically exuded panic as he entered the home, making his relationship to the deceased all too obvious to Barry.

"D-Dana—" The man stammered, looking through the open doorway into the kitchen. Barry grimaced.

Two cops entered right after the man, pulling him back out of the house before he could investigate the body further. The intruder thrashed in their arms, trying to break free.

He cried, "Let me go! That's my sister in there! LET ME GO!"

It took the two cops handcuffing him before he finally calmed down.

Barry offered a sympathetic glance at the man, as he exited the house and removed his crutches' plastic wrapping, while Joe and Dan followed shortly behind, both more confused than empathetic.

"Relative of the victim?" Barry asked for clarification.

The first cop that apprehended the man nodded, while the other held the man down. "Says he's the victim's brother, Mick."

"Wait, Mick _Rory_?" Dan interjected. The cop nodded. Dan frowned, continuing, "I busted him on an arson case a couple years back. First week on the job."

By now, Mick's captor had dragged him onto his feet. The supposed arsonist looked at Dan, his eyes alight with equal fury and grief, "And I ain't mad about it at all. I'm better now, West. Saw a doctor in Iron Heights. Helped me cool my head."

"Yeah, I can tell," Dan said, shaking his head. He nodded the cop off. "Take him downtown."

The two cops did as they were told, leading Mick away, much to his chagrin. Barry regrettably watched the man go, while Joe glanced at Dan, unsure of what to say. Eventually, he cleared his head and spoke up.

"People can change, Dan," Joe said.

"That's what they'd like you to think. Truth is, deep down most people never change; they just fake it till they make it," Dan retorted, walking off.

Barry frowned. _'Sounds about right, Daniel. Once a bully, always a bully.' _

…

_Daniel's story is…complex. I'll leave it at that for now. What I didn't know then, and wouldn't know for years to come, was just how important he'd be to my life as not just Barry Allen, or a CSI, but a hero—_

_Again, I'm getting ahead of myself. Gotta stay on track. _

_The rest of my work day was spent ignoring my co-workers' angry glares, chatting with Patty, and anxiously awaiting more news about the case. Joe had a vet CSI, James Forrest, handling the case publically, while I had to wait till I was off-duty to investigate my…supernatural side of things. _

_By the time the day ended, no news came out of the case that I hadn't expected, and I was left to investigate my lead. But first, I had to stop by home…_

…

When Barry returned home, he rather unsurprisingly discovered Max sitting at his usual spot, typing away on his laptop. Even still, he managed a "Hello," to which Max didn't respond. Barry sighed disappointedly, and continued into his bedroom.

The room in question practically oozed Barry. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and never hesitated to offer his opinion. Similarly, his room was littered with posters, books, pictures, comics, and action figures that proved he wasn't embarrassed by himself or his beliefs. What his father had cheekily dubbed his 'nerd collection,' or his assortment of Flash comic books and superhero action figures was boarded and arranged on a shelf all to the itself. His copies of sci fi books, Neil DeGrasse Tyson's novels, and other forms of prose literature occupied another small bookshelf. Two posters—one of the comic book Flash, and the other of Einstein—stared at him from over his bed, saying, "Make today a _heroic _day," and "Learn from yesterday, live for today, and hope for tomorrow," respectively.

Barry let loose a deep breath, something he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. First day on the job, and it had been both long and exciting, which just about described having to work after hours to go visit STAR Labs. Barry grabbed his laptop from atop his bed, packed it into a bag, and then snagged his personal forensics case. He checked his phone for the weather.

"100% chance of storms. Great," Barry muttered, grabbing his raincoat. Then, he headed back out of the room.

"Barry."

The blond froze in shock, as he discovered Max waiting for him around the corner. He shook off the surprise and smiled. "Yeah?"

"I've never really introduced myself," Max continued in monotone.

Barry waved the comment off, "Don't worry about it. We've both been busy."

"Yeah," Max nodded. Silence fell over the room, draping it awkwardly. "Name's Max Missichkonne. Call me Max Mercury. Everyone does."

"Missichkonne's fine," Barry assured.

"Mercury's better," Max spat back.

"Right. Max Mercury," Barry agreed, nodding. He bit back the obvious question: why now?

Max seemed to have it on his mind, anyway, as he continued, "So…rent?"

Barry forced back a sigh, and reached into his pants pocket for his wallet. Of course. Max just needed his portion of the rent. Now that money was involved, knowing one another was inevitable.

Barry handed Max a few twenties. "I'll give you the rest when I get paid in a week."

"Whatever, man." Max took the money and returned to his laptop.

Barry glanced after him once, shook his head, and continued out of the apartment. So, a difficult roommate, a job where he was either coddled or hated by his co-workers, and an impossible case. Barry didn't have a lot going for him. Everything was about to get a bit better.

As Barry neared the elevator, he began to fumble for his cellphone to look up the closest Chinese takeout, which proved to be difficult, even for a man who'd grown up with the need for crutches. It just so happened that as he did so, a woman found herself engrossed in her own phone, typing frantically into it as she approached the elevator. Neither saw the other. Both couldn't stop what was coming.

Barry fell when he stumbled into the woman, while she managed to stay on her feet. Immediately the two began to apologize.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't—"

"My God, I'm stupid. I didn't see you—"

Barry Allen looked up at Iris West's beautiful brown eyes for the first time in years. Neither knew what to say for a moment. Barry couldn't help himself as he began to chuckle, and then erupt into full on laughter. Iris soon joined in, helping him up as she did so. When the two had finally settled down, Iris was the first to speak.

"I never imagined we'd run into each other like this." Iris finished laughing, wiping away a tear.

"I hear you. This was…a surprise," Barry admitted, grinning.

"God, look at you, Barry. All grown up." Iris gave him a once-over. "It's been, what—"

"Five years," Barry interjected, blushing. "Haven't seen each other since graduation."

"That long? Wow." After a moment, "You went to Keystone, right?"

"Yeah. And you?" Barry asked, although he knew the answer. He could never forget Iris West.

"Metropolis U," Iris explained, "Journalism degree."

"So, is that why you're back? Working for Channel 9?" Barry said.

Iris let out a weak chuckle. She looked away as her laugh morphed into a sigh, "I wish. I have a job at the Citizen."

Barry jumped in, aware this was a touchy subject, "That's great! The Citizen's a heck of a newspaper!"

"Yeah," Iris nodded, "But who reads newspapers anymore?"

Silence lingered over the conversation. Barry didn't know what to say. He'd already screwed up the conversation enough. So, when it became too much, he went with what felt natural.

"Well, I'm working with the CCPD as a forensics assistant," Barry stated.

Iris looked up and smiled. "Really? That's awesome, Barry! I know that's been a dream of yours forever."

"Yeah, it's…nice," Barry half-lied. He wasn't about to mention the downside of the job.

"So, you never really answered my question: what brought you back to Central City?" Barry continued, trying to change the subject.

Iris' eyes darkened again, but to Barry it seemed like she exuded a whole different type of sadness than before—less disappointment, and more weariness.

"My brother…my older brother, Rudy, actually passed away last year," Iris explained.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry, Iris. I had no idea," Barry stammered.

"It's fine. We've…kind of kept it quiet. I doubt my dad's even told your father," Iris continued, somehow managing to meet Barry's gaze. "Yeah, it was…sudden. Rudy and his girlfriend were driving…drunk, and…you can imagine."

"That's awful," Barry said.

Iris nodded. "Worst part is they had a kid. Left him all alone. Dad's raising him, but with Mom gone, he thought he'd need a 'woman's touch.' He thought he'd need me."

"I'm so sorry." Barry did something that back in high school he could never even have imagined doing. He embraced Iris, using her to steady himself as he wrapped his arms around her. She returned the hug in kind, nuzzling into his shoulder. "If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks, Barry. That…means a lot," Iris whispered.

The two parted. Barry managed a slight smile. "Any time of the day, I'm free. Shouldn't be hard to find me, right? We live in the same building."

Iris chuckled slightly. "Actually, I was just visiting…"

Suddenly, Iris' phone went off. She looked down at it, frowned, and then glanced back up at Barry. "Shit. It's my boss. I have to go, Barry. I'm sorry. We can catch up some more later."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it," Barry said.

"Bye!" Iris said, running past Barry to the stairway.

The blond, meanwhile, grimaced, and pressed the 'down' button for the elevator.

"Bye…"

…

A little over an hour later, Barry emerged from a small Chinese restaurant with a bag of lo mein and steamed rice in hand, his left crutch stuffed into his armpit to steady itself. Chilled rain pattered down over him, matting his hair to his forehead and causing shivers to run down his spine. Lightning flashed and thunder roared overhead. Barry limped forward and hailed a taxi.

Barry directed the driver to STAR Labs' regional headquarters in downtown Central City as he ate his dinner. When he arrived, Barry thanked and paid the driver, and exited the vehicle. After spotting a shivering homeless man at the edge of an alley, Barry offered him his leftovers, which he gratefully accepted, and then continued up the marble steps to STAR Labs.

The warm, dry building proved a welcome escape from the storm, and Barry took a moment to steady himself before he approached the front desk. A pretty brunette happily greeted him with a "Hello, how can I help you?"

"Hi." Barry produced his police badge. "I'm with the CCPD. I was wondering if I could speak to Dr. Elias."

"Is something wrong?" the woman asked, nerves rising.

"No. Uh, yes, I mean yes. But Dr. Elias isn't in trouble," Barry stammered.

"Barry?"

Both the secretary's and Barry's gaze was drawn to the new arrival. Max Mercury stepped forward, pulling back his sweatshirt's hood to reveal his buzzed head and scruffy beard.

"Why're you here?" Max asked.

Barry couldn't help but feel a frown come on. "Work. You?"

"Work," Max replied.

Before Barry could reply, the secretary explained, "Mr. Miss…er, Mercury is Dr. Elias' personal assistant."

Barry mouthed, "No way," and turned back to Max.

"You hear to see Elias?" Max asked.

"Could you introduce me? I've got a really important case—"

"On day one?" Max interrupted. So, Max did pay attention to Barry. He knew today had only been his first day on the job.

"Yeah," Barry nodded. "It's kind of complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it," Max said.

"Really, I can get you through," the secretary began.

Barry glanced back at her. "It's fine." And then to Max, "There was a murder. No clues. It's an impossible case."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Keep talking and I'll take you to him."

Barry smirked. "Deal."

From there, everything became quite simple. Max used his ID badge to get Barry through to the labs, while the blond explained everything he knew about the impossible case, including the additional details about Mick Rory, the arsonist.

"So, you think the brother did it?" Max asked, for the first time showing interest in Barry's life.

The two walked past a handful of scientists experimenting on a blue gel; Barry nodded at them, and he continued, "No. He seemed genuinely upset."

"The crazies always do. Plus, you heard West. He's a criminal," Max said. "Maybe he had a key to the house."

"The doors were locked from the inside, meaning the safety chain was pulled too," Barry said.

"So, the brother's got superpowers, and used 'em to get in," Max said.

Barry froze for a moment outside a door, as Max continued into the next room. "That was my guess!"

"Relax, Barry. I was joking," Max replied.

Barry's face fell. "Oh."

The two quieted for a moment, as Max led Barry through one last public room, before he had to use a new ID card to unlock the last door. It led to an enormous room littered with the type of tech Barry had only dreamed of. At the center of it all sat something Barry had read about for ages: an enormous machine shaped like a donut with a glowing blue core—the Blackout Generator. At its base, a lone scientist worked ceaselessly, his mop of brown hair slicked back and his face just beginning to wrinkle.

Elsewhere, at different tables and machines, two younger scientists focused in on their own projects. The first, an obese black man even younger than Barry, had close cropped black hair and sat bent over what looked like a metal disk. He ignored the two as they entered, unable to hear them due to the Coast City Sentinel headphones that rested over his ears. The other scientist, a petite Asian girl, stood up from her biochemical gas project to greet the two.

"Max, you brought a friend," she said, before adding, "I didn't know you had friends."

"Classic burn, Gehenna. Well done," Max retorted.

Gehenna smirked and turned to the other two scientists. "Dr. Elias! Chess! We have company!"

Both distracted individuals perked up at the sound of their names. Elias appeared far less enthusiastic about Barry's arrival than Chess, who immediately tossed his headphones to the side and rushed to greet the blond.

"Yo, name's Chess Runk, short for Chester. The Chess, that is, not the Runk," the young man enthusiastically stammered, shaking Barry's hand.

"Barry Allen," the blond pleasantly greeted.

"Barry's a CSI," Max added.

"Really? Sweet!" Chess grinned.

"Great," Elias muttered to himself as he approached the blond. He put on his best faux-smile. "How can I help you, Mr. Allen?"

"I need your help with a murder case," Barry explained.

"I'm afraid we won't do your job for you, Mr. Allen," Elias shot back.

Barry frowned. It turned out Darwin Elias, his pseudo-idol, was a jerk. "I have a few questions for you."

Elias sighed, and continued sarcastically, "By all means, ask away."

The three young scientists had, meanwhile, begun to shrink back in either embarrassment or amusement. However, Gehenna summoned the courage to jump in.

"I can help you, Barry, if Dr. Elias is busy," Gehenna said.

"And busy I am," Elias grumbled, turning away.

"Right. Fine," Barry agreed, forcing a smile and extending a hand.

"And you thought I was a dick," Max whispered into his ear as he shook Gehenna's hand.

"Nice to meet you…Gehenna?"

"Call me Gen," Gehenna said. Barry nodded in thanks, and the woman led him off towards the ramp overlooking the generator. Chess and Max hurried just behind.

"So, what's this about a murder? And why do you need our help?" Chess asked.

"It's an impossible case. No noticeable clues, except for a blown out light bulb. I was wondering if you'd have heard of any person…or being that could, I don't know, move through the walls, or conduct electricity."

"A super murder? Sweet," Chess said. Upon looks from the others, he frowned. "I mean, that sucks. …Y'know what? I'll just go now."

Gehenna nodded Chess off, and the young man hurried back to his table.

"Tt. You see what I deal with on a daily basis," Max muttered.

Gehenna ignored the cold comment, continuing, "So, what were you saying about…powers?"

Barry nodded. "I studied theoretical physics, meta physics, metaphysiology, all of that in college. There are stories of people who can do…_incredible _things. Impossible things."

"C'mon, Barry. This is the real world, not a comic book. Superheroes don't exist," Max said.

Barry sighed, frowning, "Actually, there are videos of a super man in Metropolis…"

Gehenna spoke up before Max could, putting hand on Barry's shoulder, "I'll look into it. Is there anything else we can do to help?"

Barry smiled slightly, turning away to lean against the ramp's railing. "Thanks. I think that's all I need. Like Dr. Elias said, it's my job."

"Well, we're here whenever you need help," Gehenna said.

Max smirked, "Yeah. I'd love to hear all about your other crazy, impossible theories."

"Max—"

Barry interrupted, "It's fine. I know it sounds crazy. I know _I _sound crazy. I just…have a reason to believe in the impossible."

Gehenna and Max both faced Barry, the prior's eyes darkening with worry. "And what's that?"

_KKSH!_

All at once, faster than anyone in the room could process, lightning crashed through the glass roof, angled directly towards Barry. The young CSI managed to look up right before the bolt struck him, sending him hurtling over the railing and down into the Blackout Generator's core. Barry fell right through the glass separating the core from the rest of the world, causing a chain reaction that resulted in the generator's explosion, as blue light arced across the room, out the broken window, and over the city.

In the midst of all the chaos and destruction lay a very broken, very burned Barry Allen. He did not, could not move, even as tiny yellow sparks flickered over his skin.

…

_And so it begins—a journey, an idea, a change that alters the course of my life forever. _

…

'**Til next time, folks! (Which will hopefully be sooner than later.) Please review! Seriously, it'll motivate me to put out chapters more quickly! **

**-Drake**


	3. Second Time's the Charm

**A/N: Again, way later than I intended. I said December, and you're getting February instead. However (and I know I'm not trustworthy) I hope to have another issue up before the one year mark in April. The plan is still to post monthly (at least) in the summer, so that should help the release schedule quite a bit! And just think. Someday you'll be able to read the entire story in one sitting, and hopefully enjoy all of it! XD **

**Heart of the Demons and Jess: Thanks for the kind words, and thank you for taking the time to drop a review! **

**Veronicadiall: I don't think that's really fair to either the TV show or this story, but yes, my take on Barry is reminiscent of the show's for a variety of reasons. 1) It successfully modernizes his character by making him three dimensional without ignoring his core Silver Age traits, 2) it's an origin story about a boy (so therefore less mature) becoming a man, and 3) even Silver Age Barry quipped. If the question is about my Barry being angsty…well, yes, but most modern superheroes are. It isn't strictly Raimi's take on Peter that is. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, and I do value your opinion, even if I don't necessarily agree with it. :)**

**Choco56: I **_**will **_**finish this story, no matter how long it takes me.**

**Anon: Glad you think so! The dialogue's been really fun to write!**

**...**

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 3 – Second Time's the Charm

Barry jerked awake, his heart racing he sat up. With the sudden motion came an enormous breath, as if he'd just been resuscitated. Christ, he thought, maybe he had been. Something had happened to him…something deadly. Light. Lightning. He'd been struck by lightning.

Tension in Barry's arms caught his attention. He looked around. An IV, a heart monitor, and a handful of other medical nodes and chords had been attached to his extremities. Slowly, the tension came undone as the chords ripped from their sources. Slowly…_really _slowly, Barry noticed. It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion.

Barry glanced at the heart monitor. It was the one device that had remained connected, probably because its only node was attached to his finger with plenty of slack on its chord. Even still, the heart monitor read as if his heart wasn't beating. The eerie ringing sound of a heart rate of zero beats per minute finally reached Barry's ears. Was he dead? Was he a ghost? Was that why everything was so slow?

Barry's heart felt like it was going to burst. No, he wasn't dead. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Then what the hell was going on?

The door to the room began to inch open. Barry's eyes widened. He grew impatient as the eternity of waiting for the door to open lingered. His heartbeat slowed. He took deeper breaths. In walked a nurse, moving at regular speed.

She appeared frantic at first, but her anxiety was quickly replaced by mixed excitement and relief when she noticed Barry appeared to be fine. She hurried over to his side and checked his pulse with his wrist. The heart monitor had begun to display 58 bpm. The nurse grew continuously more relaxed. There wasn't a problem.

"Barry…Mr. Allen, you're awake." She looked around at the mess Barry had apparently caused. "What happened?"

"I…I woke up," Barry admitted. Wait, something was wrong. Something was different. His heartbeat quickened.

"We're going to need to—"

As the nurse spoke, she and the rest of the world seemed to slow around Barry. He didn't care. His legs—they felt different. He lifted up the covers, nearly tearing them, and looked down at his legs. They were still thin, yes, but there was definition. Muscle. They tingled. In fact, his whole body did.

Barry reset the blanket and looked up at the nurse, finally noticing the world had slowed down. He frowned. Before, he had taken a few deep breaths and the world had returned to regular speed. Could it be…?

Barry was a scientist after all, so he tested his hypothesis. He slowed his breathing and his heart rate, and inversely the world picked up its pace.

"—n a few tests, just to see—"

"Sorry." Barry blinked, feigning exhaustion. In truth, he felt more alive than ever. "What?"

The nurse smiled reassuringly and repeated, "We'll need to run a few tests to make sure you're okay, and we might need to keep you in the hospital overnight, but—"

"Run the tests," Barry said, suddenly overcome with a desire to try something.

He slid his legs over the side of the bed. Worry that his thoughts, his theories, his _feelings _were wrong crept into his mind. The nurse began to move to stop him, but he had already pushed himself off the bed. Barry stood up, and he _did not fall_.

"Oh my God," the nurse muttered, stepping back. "I know your medical records back to front. You…you shouldn't be able to stand. It's…"

Barry turned around, and planted his hands on his hips.

Smiling, he said, "I know. It's impossible."

…

Henry's jaw dropped when he heard the news. He made the doctor swear to him over and over that it was true, that this wasn't a joke. He pinched himself. He legitimately pinched himself because he thought he was dreaming. Barry was not only awake—he could walk.

"How...?" Henry wondered, staring at the door to his son's room.

The doctor frowned. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. My best guess— and I want to clarify that this is entirely ludicrous and should not be taken seriously—is that the lightning somehow jump started and enhanced the natural healing processes of your son's body, allowing his nervous system to recover in a way it never had before. It might also explain why his burns healed so quickly. Perhaps the coma helped. A long resting state may have allowed his body to focus on recovery."

Henry dazedly took the doctor's hand in his own and gently shook it. "Thank you. Thank you for everything you've done."

"Mr. Allen, it was my pleasure." The doctor's face lit up with a smile. "It's not every day you get to witness a miracle, particularly in my profession."

Henry offered a tiny smile back, before stumbling to his son's room. He still couldn't believe it. When he opened the door…

Barry stood up to greet his father. Tears immediately flooded Henry's eyes. The two embraced, smiling and laughing.

"My boy! My sweet, wonderful boy!" Henry sobbed.

"I always told you," Barry sniffed back tears, "Nothing's impossible."

"You were right! Thank God, you were right!" Henry held his son back, looking him over. "The doctors cleared you. You can go home."

Barry nodded. "They told me just before you came."

Henry wiped tears out of his eyes, steadied himself, and then said, "Well, what are we waiting for?"

…

"I, uh, called a friend to come take you home. I hope you don't mind," Henry said as he rolled Barry out of the hospital in a wheelchair.

It wasn't one of the former cripple's favorite policies, especially now, but they wouldn't let him leave without it.

"That's fine. You have work?" Barry asked, standing up after his father stopped.

Henry nodded. "Came straight here from the precinct when I got the news. Would've taken the rest of the day off, but Joe needs me for a case."

"Anything I can do to help?" Barry wondered.

"No. No, you take the day off. And the weekend, too," Henry said.

"It's Friday?"

"Yes." Henry frowned, realizing, "That's right. You don't know what the date is."

"It's hot, really hot," Barry noted, "So it's probably the summer. All things considered, I was out, what, three months?"

"Almost exactly," Henry admitted. He looked at his son, but Barry appeared to be handling the news well. He hadn't stopped smiling since they had left the hospital.

Barry noticed his father's gaze, and said, "Relax, Dad. I'm taking this in stride. After all, I can't complain. I can walk. I can actually _walk_. That alone is perfect, but, I mean, I still have my job, right?"

"Yes. The CCPD couldn't fire you for obvious reasons," Henry said.

"Number one being my hero dad?" Barry joked.

"Lawsuits, actually. What happened to you was a freak accident, and you couldn't be blamed for it," Henry said, paused, and then playfully added, "But yes, your hero dad as well."

A blue van slowly appeared at the edge of the lot, and began to make its way toward the two. Both men caught sight of the vehicle, and came to the same conclusion.

"Is this the guy?" Barry asked.

"I think so," Henry said.

Barry glanced at his father. "You think so? Who exactly did you call?"

"Max Mercury."

"What?" Barry exclaimed. The car was half a minute away, cutting off others, who honked, as it neared the entrance.

"I know you said that he was abrasive and cold—that he didn't like you—but he visited day after day while you were in the hospital," Henry explained. Barry resisted the urge to scream 'what' again. His father continued, "In fact, he might have been by your side when you'd woken up if he hadn't had a…I think it was a tribal party. A ceremony. Something like that."

"Max—my roommate Max—came to visit me every day?" Barry wondered incredulously.

"Nearly every day," Henry clarified. "I talked to him. He certainly was a little…outspoken, but he seemed to like you, and, maybe most of all, he seemed to feel guilty."

The van pulled up at the curb. Barry looked between it and his father. The shotgun side window rolled down.

Max Mercury peered out from the driver's seat, "You coming, Barry, or not?"

"This is a dream. I am dreaming, right?" Barry whispered to his father, who motioned him onwards.

"Thanks, Max," Henry said, waving.

"No problem, Detective. The apartment's kind of on my way," Max dryly quipped.

Henry lightly chuckled at the joke, and began to walk off as Barry opened up the car door and got in.

"Rest up, Barry. And thank you again, Max!" Henry said.

"Bye, Dad," Barry replied. Max merely offered a slight wave.

Once his father was out of sight and Max had rolled up the window, Barry said, "You notice anything different about me?"

"Your father told me. Congratulations, Barry, you can walk like a normal person," Max coolly remarked.

Barry rolled his eyes. It turned out Max wasn't _that _different. "Thanks for the support."

"Anytime."

Silence fell over the car as Max pulled out of the hospital parking lot and began the drive toward their apartment. Barry looked out the window, glanced at Max, and then redirected his gaze to the cracked gray street. Max cleared his throat and reached for the radio's power button. As he did so, Barry spoke up.

"My dad said you visited me."

Max froze, returned his hand to the wheel, and said, "Yeah."

"Thanks," Barry said.

Silence. Max flicked on the radio. Country music blared through the speakers. Barry looked at Max, amused. The STAR Labs techie blushed and turned it off.

"There have been some…developments in the impossible case," Max blurted.

Barry cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

He hadn't even thought about it since he had woken up. Of course there would have been advancements in the case. It had been three months.

"Yeah, there was another victim," Max explained. "Same MO. According to your father, the cops think, for obvious reasons, that it's the same perp."

"…That's it?" Barry wondered, admittedly disappointed.

"Mostly. The commissioner is freaking out. No new clues, no new leads, nothing. Only two people are dead, so news coverage has been contained, but it's only gonna get worse until we catch this guy," Max said. "There's some good news. We have reason to believe the impossible is possible, that your theory might be accurate."

Barry nodded him on.

"You, for starters, but there's more. Pictures of Gotham's Batman have surfaced online, and Metropolis…" Max shook his head in disbelief. "They have a guy who can fly, pick up trains, and shoot lasers from his eyes—a Super-Man. He did an interview with the Daily Planet. The impossible…it's all possible now."

"I knew it! I'd read the stories about Metropolis' hero, Gotham's Caped Crusader, Gateway's Wonder—" Barry paused, tilting his head slightly, "Wait, Wonder Woman is real, right?"

Max shrugged, "There are rumors of more…enhanced individuals. Good, bad, in between."

Barry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He knew it. He'd always known it. The impossible was real. Maybe that could explain what he'd experienced in the hospital and his newfound ability to walk. Maybe, just maybe it would explain his mother's murder.

…

Barry tapped his foot repeatedly, slowly picking up speed, as he sat on the couch in his living room, watching TV.

"Switch to AT+T and receeeeiiiiiii—"

Heart racing, Barry smelled smoke. He looked down, only to discover his tapping had begun a small carpet fire. He hurried up out of his seat and over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He pulled on the faucet handle, only to break it. Water burst out in a slow stream. Barry cursed and looked back at the carpet fire. It was spreading just a tad faster than the water was soaring toward him.

Barry sighed and ran over to the living room couch. He tossed a blanket from the couch onto the fire, and then patted it down. When the fire was put out, he used the blanket to stop the stream of water before it reached the stove. Both problems solved, he took a few deep breaths, calming himself, and the world returned to its proper speed.

The blanket was growing wetter by the second, so Barry looked around for a more permanent solution. He spotted a wine plug on the counter and used it to block the spout. Massaging his forehead, Barry looked between the burnt carpet and the clogged faucet.

Great. Just great. He would have some explaining to do to Max.

Suddenly, it hit Barry yet again. He was standing, running—let alone at _super speed_. He couldn't sit still, not now. Forget what the doctors said. He needed to go out and explore. It was a brand new world, full of impossible possibilities.

With that thought, Barry grabbed tennis shoes and headed out the door, making sure to remain calm enough that he didn't trigger his new gift.

…

When Barry reached the park, the sun had begun to set. As it was early Summer and therefore quite warm, if not yet blisteringly hot, in Central City, only a few homeless men and stragglers remained in the enormous park, leaving Barry to his devices. He wanted to go on a run, but not just any run. He hadn't been imagining things in the hospital or at his apartment. He was fast. _Super _fast.

Barry began with a slow jog, and quickly transitioned into a casual run, then a full on sprint. His feet pounding against the sidewalk pavement, his heart rate grew exponentially until it was off the scale. While Barry's perception of the world remained relatively in sync with how he felt his body was moving, in actuality he began to run so fast anyone looking at him would see but a blur. Winds picked up after him, the ground began to scorch slightly underneath his feet—

-His feet?!

"Crap," Barry muttered, attempting to stop.

He stumbled, the force of his momentum sending him crashing to the ground. He sat up and looked down at his shoes, or rather what remained of his shoes. Circles of mesh material disintegrated off his ankles.

Smoke. There was the smell again. He looked down at his shirt, only to discover it was on fire. Tugging it off, Barry crawled back a few steps. He took a deep breath, returning to normal speed, and stood up.

As he watched his shirt burn, the honest reality of his situation sunk in.

'_It turns out I have a lot to learn. This gift isn't without consequences. I need help before I get someone hurt. I need STAR Labs.' _

…

"You're joking. This is a joke, right? You have to be joking," Max stammered as he led Barry, who had since put on a new T-shirt and pair of shoes, down to the main labs, "When you called me, I thought—"

"'He has to be joking.' Yeah, I got it the first twenty times," Barry playfully remarked.

"For real, though. When I said you were impossible, I just meant waking up, walking—all of_ that _was impossible. That wasn't an invitation to, like, spontaneously get superpowers," Max continued.

"It wasn't spontaneous," Barry argued, but upon further thought decided, "Actually, I guess it happened at supersonic speed. Lightning literally struck me."

"You are the goddamn luckiest man alive," Max muttered.

"Ryan Reynolds begs to differ," Barry joked, as the doors to the main lab slid open before them.

As it turned out, Chess was waiting for them, standing at the door. Max jumped back a step in surprise at the young man's sudden appearance.

"Barry!" Chess excitedly exclaimed.

"Jesus, Chess. Don't ever do that again," Max grumbled, shaking his head.

Chess ignored him, and followed Barry into the room. "Max told us everything. You're super fast! How cool is that?! Uh, let me tell you—_mega cool!_"

"On a coolness scale from one to ten, you're easily a Samuel L. Jackson," Chess continued, only to be interrupted by Gehenna.

"Take a deep breath, Chess, and give Barry some room," she chided, grinning at the police scientist.

The blond offered a smile in thanks, before looking around the lab. It was as he remembered it, except for two things. The Blackout Generator had been shut down—he could guess why—and Dr. Elias was nowhere to be found. Barry tilted his head to the side, confused.

"Where's Dr. Elias?" he asked.

"Out. He'll be here soon," Gen explained. A hint of mischief crept over her lips as she continued, "Now, Barry, whatever shall we do until he arrives?"

"Ew. Gross. I'm so outtie," Chess interjected.

"She meant we should test him, you idiot," Max retorted, massaging his temple.

Chess blushed. "Oh. Right. Yeah, let's get on that…poor choice of words?"

Barry laughed, and soon enough Gehenna joined in. Realizing the two were good-naturedly laughing _with _him, Chess followed their example. Max merely groaned.

"I swear to God, I wonder sometimes…"

…

"Good afternoon, Mr. Allen," Elias called as he entered the lab.

Barry slowed to a super fast jog on a high tech treadmill as Chess continued to examine data streaming from nodes on the speedster's chest. Gehenna and Max looked up from the tablet in her hands, one that, in particular, read bio signs.

"Hey," Barry greeted, pleasantly surprised by Elias' more outgoing behavior. He glanced questioningly at Gen, who didn't notice his confusion.

"Dr. Elias, Barry's readings are literally off the charts. He was explaining that the hospital's heart monitor read his heart rate as zero beats per minute, and here's why." Gen handed her boss the tablet, which Elias carefully scanned.

"His heart's beating faster than any monitor can read. His body functions at super speed, and the effect is triggered by adrenaline. He can obviously walk." Elias nodded as he read. He looked up at Barry. "His brain?"

The 'patient' jumped in, "It's a little slower than my body, but it mostly keeps up."

"When he reaches speeds that exceed 1000 miles per hour, his brain struggles to absorb information as quickly as he receives it," Max explained.

"That's something to work on," Elias noted, looking over the tablet data again.

"And Doc? Check this out." Max grabbed a small needle from the table beside him and used it to prick Barry's face as he ran.

"Ow. Give me a warning next time," the blond muttered, to which Max rolled his eyes.

Only a single drop of blood managed to escape the wound, as it healed nearly immediately.

"Fascinating," Elias whispered.

"I know, right!" Chess exclaimed, finally looking up.

Elias forced a smile, handed Gen her tablet, and approached Barry. "How are you doing, Mr. Allen?"

"You can call me Barry," the blond began, glancing at Gehenna again. "And I'm great. Really great."

"Wonderful," Elias happily said.

Max was the first to pick up on Barry's confusion, and addressed it directly. "Relax, Barry. Doc's just worried you're gonna sue. This isn't Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

"Mr. Missichkonne, I don't know what you're talking about," Elias quickly interjected.

Barry turned off the treadmill and slowed to a regular walk. "Dr. Elias, you don't have to worry about anything. I'm not going to sue you. If anything, I should thank you. The accident was scary, yeah, and it took away three months of my life, but I can walk now. More than that, I can _run__**. **_I'm the _fastest man alive_."

"Egomaniac," Max coughed.

"'Fastest man alive...?'" Chess muttered, before exclaiming, "That's perfect! That's the tag line."

All eyes focused on him. Chess looked back blankly at the others one by one. "What? Barry's going to become a superhero. We were all thinking it."

"Ramon…" Elias began, struggling for the right words. He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."

He turned to Barry. "Thank you for that, Barry. Your father never personally contacted me, but after this…"

He snagged a remote from a nearby table and turned on one of four TV monitors on the northern wall of the room. After typing in '5' for Channel 5 news, a blonde reporter appeared on the screen. The headline below her read 'ONCE-CRIPPLED POLICE SCIENTIST WAKES UP FROM COMA AND CAN WALK.'

"—Barry's father, Detective Henry Allen, has refused to comment on his son's miraculous recovery—"

"It's everywhere," Elias explained. Upon Barry's continued shock, he said, "I guess no one bothered to tell you. You're famous, Barry. The whole city's been following your story. It's the worst publicity in the history of STAR Labs. We had to fire half our employees from this branch, and almost one hundred more around the world."

"My God…" Barry muttered.

"You can understand my concern," Elias finished. "If your case were to go to court, the Central City division would certainly be demolished, my work destroyed, and the history of STAR Labs forever tainted."

No one bothered to speak for a while as the words sunk in. The silence slowly driving him mad, Chess tossed his tablet to the side and ran into an adjacent room, leaving the others to look after him in confusion. A few moments later, he ran back in carrying a pair of black boots.

"On a much brighter note, here are shoes you can actually wear while you run that won't burn away," Chess said, handing Barry the boots. As the blond looked them over, he continued, "They're mostly friction-proof. Been a pet project of mine for a while. They were designed for firemen and soldiers who might be caught in, y'know, explosive situations."

He motioned back at the other room, "There's a suit too, but it's, uh, not really for casual use. If you wanna be a superhero, though…"

Barry frowned. Chess nodded.

"Or just pretend I never said that," he mumbled, turning away.

"Until I figure out how to handle this…don't tell anyone, okay?" Barry requested, looking up at Elias. "It's the least you could do, right?"

Elias nodded. "Of course."

Barry extended his hand to the scientist. "Thank you, Dr. Elias."

The older man eyed Barry's hand for a moment, before shaking it. "You're welcome."

"Well," Barry slapped the boots together and stepped off the treadmill, "I need to go home before my dad checks in on me. I'll see you there, Max. Bye, and thanks again."

He waved as he began to leave the lab.

"See ya there," Max said.

"Bye, Barry," Gen and Chess said simultaneously.

Elias merely nodded in farewell.

…

Jefferson Cleaver shivered as he hurried down the sidewalk toward to his urban home. While the sun had set, the weather was dry and warm. Jeff wasn't cold; he was afraid.

Looking this way and that, he didn't notice as a man approached him from the front.

"Jeff!"

The terrified man yelped in surprise, and nearly tripped back onto his rear. However, he discovered the voice's source was none other than a man he recognized, someone he knew all too well: Henry Allen.

"Jeff," Henry eyed him worriedly, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," the man replied, quickly shaking his head as if to ward off Henry's questions.

Henry frowned, but continued nonetheless, "I forgot you lived around here. My son, he's just down the block. I guess great minds think alike."

"Yeah," Jeff said, glancing around. He tried to walk past Henry, but the man stopped him.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay? I haven't seen you in blue in months," Henry said.

"I said I'm fine," Jeff grunted, pulling away from Henry. He rushed off, leaving his friend to watch him go.

Just a short half minute later that felt like hours to Jeff, he reached his home. Shaking, he struggled to insert his key into the lock, but did at last, and unlocked the front door. Opening it, he looked down the street, carefully checking for a particular someone or something. Convinced he was alone, he shut the door, and took a deep breath, relieved. Then, he turned around, and screamed.

A red-cloaked figure slammed him into the door, knocking the key out of his hand.

"I swear—I swear I told them nothing. I just wanted out," Jeff stammered, crying.

The cloaked figure produced a golden knife with a blade shaped like a lightning bolt, and raised it. Jeff whispered 'no' repeatedly and began to hyperventilate as the figure spoke.

"Our god requires your sacrifice, Jefferson William Cleaver. Die for the Lightning!"

_SHINK! _

…

**Please review! **

'**Til next time, True Believers!**

**-Drake**


	4. Cold

**A/N: SO SO SO sorry about how late this is. But I have really good news. It will have a consistent release schedule from now on. I have the next couple chapters finished (they'll be up in a week or two), and I'm continuing this on another site as well, which has given me motivation to complete the story at a monthly pace. We finally reached the point of no return, guys! XD**

**Heart of the Demons: As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. No update on Cleaver this issue. As for Barry, he'll continue to struggle with his powers throughout the rest of the story.**

**AgentAmerica9: Here it is! And there will be no more hiatuses from now on!**

**Wow: Thanks!**

**Guest: Here's the next issue!**

**spiderman1fan: Glad you came back at all. I hope you stick with it!**

**KingdomCometh: No comment, haha.**

**...**

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 4: Cold

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!_

Barry grumbled as he reached for his phone to turn off the alarm. After doing so, he sat up, blinked twice at the morning sunlight that crept underneath his window shade, and then lay back down again.

"Just a few more minutes…"

…

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!_

A veiny hand smacked at the bedside table until it found its target: a cellphone. Breathing deeply, a shirtless man sat up, turned off the alarm, stood, and dropped his phone onto the bed. His lean muscles rippled as he stretched and yawned.

In nothing but dark blue pajama bottoms, he walked across the room to a bench press machine, rotated his arms twice, and then began to use it. After bench press came squats, and it was during his third and final set that sweat began to bead down his brow.

"Just a few more…"

…

"You sleep one more minute, Allen, and you're gonna be late."

Barry's eyes fluttered open. That voice… "Max?"

"Don't be in a rush to thank me," the other man said, before leaving the room.

Barry checked the time on his phone. 7:29. He immediately shot up, mentally berating himself as he looked for his crutches. They were nowhere to be found. He began to panic before remembering what had happened.

"I can run," he whispered, still amazed.

Barry sprinted into the bathroom. After undressing, he forced himself to calm down so as to deactivate his super speed, and turned on the shower. It was only after getting in that he realized he'd forgotten a towel. Muttering obscenities, he turned off the water and used his speed to rush into his bedroom, but he slipped on the floor.

_SLAM!_

"Allen!" Max called from the living room, getting up to go check on his roommate.

"I'm naked!" Barry shouted back.

"Ha ha, you're hilari—oh God. Sorry," Max quickly averted his gaze when he caught sight of Barry, who had since covered his genitals with his hands.

The blond took only half a second to look at Max in terror before he thought to use his speed to grab a towel and run back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. In the process, he ripped it off its hinges.

"ALLEN!" Max roared.

"Sorry! I'll fix it," Barry said, making sure the door was steady. "Just let me shower first."

"All that speed and what does he do with it? Fix a door," Max muttered to himself, munching on his breakfast.

…

"One more minute," the man said to himself, his voice husky and deep.

He was currently in the middle of a burnout set of sit ups. Sweat puddled beneath him. He refused to quit until at last he physically could not sit up.

"Two less than last week," he muttered. "Dammit!"

The man slammed his fists against the floor. After taking a few moments to breathe, he rolled over and forced himself up onto his feet. He then tossed a small washcloth onto the puddle of sweat, before he snagged a larger towel off its rack and headed to the bathroom.

Inside, he turned on the shower, put up the towel, and undressed. As steam clouded around him, the man glared into the mirror. Cold, ice blue eyes stared back at him. His close cropped brown hair was freckled with gray, and his lightly wrinkled face was far too matured for his age, 29. He grimaced, and looked away.

This was Leonard Snart.

…

"You gonna eat anything?" Max yelled from the kitchen.

Barry, in his room, had hastily thrown on a button up, slacks, shoes, and his clip-on bowtie. As he stuffed medical reports and his friction-proof boots into his satchel, he called back, "No! I don't have the time!"

"Fine, but if you die it's not on me," Max said.

Barry smirked, throwing the last of his necessary belongings into the bag before he took off toward the front door.

"I'm not gonna slip into a coma because I skipped breakfast; relax," Barry teased Max as he jogged at regular speed out of the apartment, his roommate flipping him off as he went by.

…

Snart, dressed in faded jeans and a blue hoodie, knelt down onto his knees. He produced from beneath his bed a small safe, and after unlocking it, he took out one of a few dozen hundred dollar bills. He then stuffed it into his wallet, and pushed the safe back into its hiding space so he could reach for something else: a pistol.

Snart checked to make sure its safety was on before he stuck the firearm in the waist of his jeans. To hide it, he covered it with his hoodie and then hurried into the kitchen. After grabbing a protein bar, he slipped out of his apartment, making sure to lock it.

…

Barry began to pick up speed as he raced down the hallway. Electricity coursing through his veins, he took his first step at super speed just as he crossed intersecting hallways, nearly running into Snart in the process. Barry practically tripped over his own feet in his attempt to slow down, and had to lean against the elevator doors to catch himself.

He tried to play it off with a simple, "Good morning."

Snart merely nodded in return.

Barry and Snart reached for the down button at the same time. Both hesitated because of the other. Taking charge, Snart pressed the button, and Barry slipped his hands into his pockets, stepping back.

"Sorry," Barry muttered.

"Don't sweat it. I'm Len Snart, 4C," the man said, extending his hand.

"Barry Allen, 4F. Nice to meet you." The blond shook his hand.

"Likewise."

Neither spoke for what felt like an eternity, particularly for Barry. Awkwardness was made all the worse by super speed.

"How long have you lived here?" Barry blurted.

Snart looked at him, not so much incredulous as amused. "A couple years. Originally moved in with some friends, but they left a while back." A beat and then, "You must be the new guy."

"Guilty as charged," Barry admitted, glancing away.

"You enjoying it?" Snart asked.

Barry shrugged right as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Following Snart inside, he answered, "Yeah, for all the time I've spent here. I had an accident a few months ago. It…set me back."

"Yeah?" Snart wondered, pressing the button for the first floor.

"Long story short, I was away for a while. Now I'm back and better than ever," Barry replied.

"Good for you, kid," Snart said.

Despite his graying hair and wrinkles, Barry picked up from the twinkle in his eye and his build that Snart and he were in fact close to the same age. He had to resist correcting him, and instead went with, "What about you?"

"Oh…I've been laying low, you know what I mean?" Barry nodded. Snart smirked to a joke only he understood, then continued, "But my life's about to get a whole lot better. I'm gonna meet up with those friends I was telling you about, and cut loose. Might take some convincing—a couple of 'em don't know how to chill out, right?—but it'll be a good time."

The elevator pinged again and the doors slid open. They'd arrived at the first floor.

Smiling at the other man, Barry began to run to the front door. "Well, it was nice meeting you. I hope everything works out with your friends!"

And just like that, Barry was off.

Meanwhile, Snart took it easy as he approached the front door. Chuckling, he whispered, "Me too, kid. Me too."

Exiting the building, Snart searched through his phone for a particular contact. He stopped scrolling when he found 'Mick Rory.' Dialing the number, he lifted the phone up to his ear. It rang once. Twice. Multiple times until he got Rory's automatic voicemail.

"Dammit, Mick," Snart grumbled, hanging up.

He clicked into the Find My iPhone app. Snart quickly typed ' ' and the password into the application before logging in. A map of Central City popped up. On it lay a digital pin. He memorized the address, and then opened up the Uber app.

'_I hate to do this, Mick, but we gotta talk.'_

…

Barry's attempt to sneak into work failed spectacularly. For starters, he hoped to avoid his second round of congratulations, because, of course, his second day of work happened to be his first day back after the accident. No such luck. His father's colleagues hounded him, clapping him on the back so hard he was reminded of high school.

And then came Part Two. The ruckus drew the attention of the entire crime lab, who were none too pleased at the sight of him. He would have been just a couple minutes late, but his fan club had slowed him down even further.

As he entered, a female scientist passed him by, whispering in a melodic tone, "Singh's gonna kill you, miracle child."

"Wha—"

"ALLEN!"

Barry swiveled around only to get caught in a stare down with David Singh, the head of the crime lab, across the room.

"Yes, sir!" Barry yelled, further angering his colleagues who were hard at work. He shrunk back and lowered his voice as he muttered to the closest scientist he could find, "So sorry."

"MY OFFICE! NOW!" Singh roared.

Barry gulped and hurried over to the man, who motioned for him to enter a glass-walled room only slightly bigger than a broom closet. Forcibly sitting Barry down, Singh stalked around to his chair and sat down. The blond glanced between random objects—a picture of Singh with another man, one with his family, his college diploma.

"You're late," Singh sternly said, drawing Barry's gaze.

"I know. I'm so sorry. I…I don't have an excuse. I'm sorry," Barry stammered.

"Stop apologizing."

"Sorry!"

"Allen!"

Barry looked down at his feet. Singh frowned, and leaned forward in his seat.

"You need to understand something about me, Allen," he began.

"You hate me, like everyone else. I get it," Barry said matter-of-factly, ready to defend himself.

"No. No, I don't."

Barry looked up, confused, and Singh continued.

"I'm indifferent to you. You've done nothing to impress me. You've been late, but that's not enough to warrant my hate, or even my distaste. While you were handed a case you hadn't earned, you didn't brag about it. You're not an asshole with a small ego like half of the rest of the lab. I can respect that, but I can't respect you just because you're a decent person."

"Thank you…?" Barry offered.

"Don't thank me, Allen. Impress me," Singh reached into a drawer and produced from it a folder. He slammed it down in front of Barry. "I won't sugarcoat it; this is a cold case. Crack it. You're supposed to be a genius, so prove your doubters wrong."

"Y-yeah, absolutely, thank you—" Barry began, taking the file, before Singh interrupted him.

"What did I say?!" Singh growled.

"So—right. Um…I guess I should go…" Barry said, standing up.

"Did I say I was done with you?" Singh demanded.

"No…"

"Then sit back down!"

Barry did as he was told.

Singh finished, "Last we talked, you so desperately wanted a mentor, so you're getting one. James Forrest. One of our best and brightest, and the same man who's in charge of your 'impossible case.'" He used his fingers as quotations marks to emphasize his skepticism. "While you'll work on the cold case alone, you will be required to help Forrest, too. Until such a time as both cases are closed, you will be the CCPD's first forensic assistant in ten years."

"Yes, sir," Barry nodded.

Silence. Singh sighed, before exploding, "Go! You're dismissed!"

"Sor—yes, sir!" Barry stammered, rushing to the door. After stepping outside, he stopped and peeked his head back in to say, "Have a good day, sir."

"GO!"

Without further ado, Barry, file in hand, stumbled away to find James Forrest. Unseen by the young man, Singh shook his head as he watched him go, the tiniest of smiles creeping over his lips.

…

"What's with the smile?" Forrest wondered, as a smirk ghosted over Barry's lips.

The blond didn't look up, caught in the Impossible Case's file, the cold case laid out next to it.

Forrest frowned. "Barry!"

The young man's head shot up. He blinked once, and then looked at his superior, a kind, albeit serious, black man in his late forties.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just…what was the question?" Barry asked.

"What's with your smile? Did you figure something out?" Forrest repeated.

Barry shrugged, the same smirk overcoming his face again. "Yeah, you could say that. The jagged cut in the victims' bodies—I don't think it was a sign of a struggle. I think the blade itself was…angular, like a saw."

"Barry..." Forrest began, unintentionally patronizing the man, who felt the need to defend himself.

"Nothing else at any of the crime scenes indicated a struggle. It doesn't make sense!" Barry pointed out.

"I want to believe you, but…why a saw?" Forrest argued.

"Maybe—probably it wasn't a saw. I'm just saying that the blade was oddly shaped. If we could cross reference recent purchases…"

"Barry, I'm sorry, but what your about to ask is an impossible task…no pun intended," Forrest said. "Assuming your hunch is correct, tracking down every jagged knife would be like trying to find a—"

"—a needle in a haystack. Right," Barry sighed, recognizing the fault in his plan. He slid the file back over to Forrest. "I don't have any other ideas at the moment. Maybe I should just focus on the cold case."

"At the rate we're going, this is about to become a cold case," Forrest muttered, before saying, "Go for it, Barry. We'll…figure something out. Eventually."

Barry nodded, and carried the cold case file over to an empty desk in the corner. He beat back his feeling of inadequacy and ignored the occasional glares from his colleagues so he could focus in on the information before him.

The first crime had been committed two years ago. They were bank robberies—heists—each and every one, and no less than two million dollars had been stolen in total. The perps hadn't taken more than ten or so thousand each time, which of course meant there had been dozens of robberies. Every single one went under the radar, more than half undetected, and the other half considered unrelated since they were such minor robberies in the grand scheme of things.

It was only after they caught most of the gang that the CCPD realized the same crew had performed each crime. None of the thugs would give up their free comrades. None revealed the location of the dough. They'd only been caught in the first place because one of them got antsy and wasted time taking more cash than usual. These guys were (for the most part) well-trained career criminals: Sam Scudder, PJ Jackson, Jose Martinez, James Jesse and the idiot who had gotten them caught—Axel Walker, Jesse's kid cousin. A teenaged anarchist who happened to only get juvie because of his age.

"What a little jerk," Barry muttered, reading Axel's rap sheet. It was longer than his cousin's, and he was over ten years younger than him. More importantly, the kid had escaped juvie and hadn't yet been caught.

That led Barry to an entirely different train of thought—one directly related to the 'cold' aspect of this case. How had someone kept him in line? Who was capable of not just orchestrating those heists, but also controlling Axel Walker?

…

Snart hadn't stepped foot in The Hole for almost six months, but the smell of the establishment brought him right back to some of his fondest memories as if he'd just been there yesterday. Booze, blood, and a faint touch of cinnamon—a combination he remembered fondly. The Hole was like a world of its own, a home away from home, a bar for criminals and outcasts alike.

He found Mick in a corner booth, alone. The man looked every bit the mess he was: scruffy hair, an untrimmed beard, his tan skin blanched with worry. Snart pitied him almost as much as he was disgusted by his defeatist attitude.

"Hello, Mick. You look like shit," Snart stated, sliding across from him.

"I didn't answer for a reason, Len. I'm done with that life," Mick cut to the chase, grimacing.

Snart glanced around the bar—an underground criminal bar—amused. "I can tell."

"Fuck you, man. You don't—you can't understand. You were born this way; it's in your blood. Me? I just got dragged into it," Mick spat.

"Tell that to your parents," Snart shot back.

It was like someone had lit a match beneath Mick. He surged off his feet and dived across the table for Snart. However, in his drunken state he didn't stand a chance. Snart grabbed his hair and slammed his head onto the table.

_WHAM!_

As if a gun had been fired, everyone in the room stood up. The bartender, Tanya, drew a pistol from beneath her skirt and aimed it at Snart.

"_Snart_, you know better than this. Only rule here—"

"—is no fighting," Snart said, his hands in the air. Mick glared at him but did the same. "It's okay. We were just leaving."

"Damn straight," Tanya growled, motioning to the door with her gun.

Snart walked slowly out of the bar, Mick just behind him. As soon as they made their way out of the Barbeque restaurant that fronted for The Hole, Mick grabbed by Snart by his collar and slammed him into an alley wall.

"_Never mention my parents again, you hear me?!" _Mick demanded.

Snart, utterly composed, nodded and said, "I heard about your sister. I'm sorry, Mick. You know I of all people mean it. If Lisa was killed…"

Mick relaxed, scowled and let Snart go. "I know you mean it. Our sisters are why we're friends. _My_ sister's why I'm outta the Rogues—permanently."

"You want out, fine. I just came here to tell you I was sorry to hear about Lisa, and if you ever want back in you'd be welcomed with open arms. The Rogues are a family, Mick. Don't ever forget that," Snart said, before turning to walk away.

However, just as he reached the edge of the sidewalk, he stopped, and added, "If you need money, I've got a job. The perfect heist, worth millions. It'd be the last you'd ever have to do. You could retire. But don't feel pressured into it…"

Mick sighed and leaned against the wall. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Snart smirked, put his hood up, and disappeared down the street.

…

Shouting shattered Barry's concentration. He looked up for the source of the noise, only to find cops scrambling out of the building. Glancing around, he noticed the other police scientists paid the chaos no mind. Another day, another crime, right?

Unable to resist, Barry approached Patty, who was situated at a nearby table, and asked, "What's going on?"

"Lunch break. They need their coffee and donuts," Patty quipped.

"Really?"

"No, not really. Well, it is their lunch break, but they're all freaking out because there's a car chase," Patty explained.

"Wow, uh…" Barry was at a loss for what to say, but not because of social anxiety. His instincts urged him to go help out. He was the fastest man alive. No car could outrun him. "I'll be back. I'm starving."

"Do you want to grab lunch with me?" Patty asked, as Barry got tunnel vision, and hurried over to his station to grab his bag.

"Maybe another ti—wait, what?" Barry swiveled around, bag in hand.

Patty continued on confidently, "Do you want to get lunch with me?"

"I…yes! Absolutely!" Barry's grin faded as he admitted, "But not today. I just…I told my dad I'd eat with him, and…"

"Oh. Yeah. Don't worry about it," Patty said, unsure how to take the comment.

"Um…see you later," Barry said, mentally berating himself as he turned away.

Outside amidst the chaos, Barry caught sight of Daniel and ran up to him.

"Car chase?" he asked.

"Yeah. How'd you…never mind," Daniel said, shaking his head.

"Why's everyone freaking out?"

"It's this kid, Axel Walker. He—"

"—broke out of juvie," Barry interrupted.

Daniel frowned, but nodded. "And then some. This is the third car chase he's been caught in, but he's escaped every time."

"What?" Barry muttered. How had a teenager outmaneuvered the police multiple times?

"Listen, Barry, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but get back to work. No police scientist is gonna catch this guy," Daniel said, patted him on the back, and then ran off after the others.

Barry watched Daniel go, and then looked to the crime lab. He eyed the door, and then his bag. Frowning determinedly, Barry tightened his grip on his bag and ran after the others.

…

Outside Juarez's Mexican Bar and Grill, Iris West tapped her foot against the ground, impatient. She looked at her watch. He was nearly fifteen minutes late.

Suddenly, a tricked out sports car screeched by, creating a gust of wind that blew her hair over her eyes. Iris snorted frustratedly and readjusted her bangs right as three cop cars zoomed past, which in turn caused her hair to fall back again.

"Son of a…" Iris muttered, before a husky voice interjected.

"I'm not that late, am I?"

Pushing her hair back, Iris locked eyes with Leonard Snart. She crossed her arms and leaned back, daring him to continue.

"Joking! I'm only joking!" Snart said, approaching her, arms out.

Iris sighed, shaking her head, "It's fine."

"No, it's not. So lunch is on me," Snart wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her around to the restaurant.

"Oh, you bet your ass you're paying. I've covered you the last nine times," Iris teased.

Snart smiled. "Love you, too, babe."


	5. Wally West

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoy the addition of a fan favorite character (who long term is more inspired by the comics than anything, I promise). **

**Kingdom Cometh: Thanks for reviewing again! Can't comment on your questions for fear of spoiling the story, but I'm glad you're enjoying my take on the Flash mythos. **

**...**

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 5: Wally West

'_My name is Wally West and I feel like the only orphaned kid alive._

_Blame it on my classmates. They stare at me as if I am…as if I'm about to crack any minute. Like I'm as fragile as glass. I hate it. It's not that I don't feel anything. My parents died for Christ's sake! It's just…they make me feel a lot worse._

_So I have to get out of here. Now.'_

A dark-skinned junior high student finished writing in the small book—his journal—he held down in his locker. His therapist was the one who'd recommended he write out his feelings. Wally hated to admit it, but it actually helped. Thing is, it didn't help enough. It couldn't stop the others from staring at him out of the corner of their eyes, as if he didn't notice.

Wally slammed his locker door shut, drawing the attention of those around him. No one asked him if he was okay. They just stared.

Grabbing his backpack, Wally stormed off, past the computer lab and into the debate room. He didn't do debate, but he knew the room was almost always empty. The program hadn't gotten enough funding, so it had been silently shut down, although the room remained.

Wally reached into his pocket and produced a bent paperclip and some wire. He then began to pick the lock, and managed to do so right as the bell rung. He was officially late for third period, English. Who cared?

Wally glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and then snuck into the room. Inside, he hurried over to the windows, unlocked and then opened them. Taking only a moment to make sure no one was outside to catch him, he crawled through the window and sprinted away, his feet pounding against the pavement.

…

Barry's feet pounded against the pavement as he picked up speed, swerving between cars and at times accidentally clipping their mirrors. He felt awful about it, but there was a criminal on the loose. Even still, he swore he'd rush back after he caught Axel Walker, find and fix every vehicle he damaged.

It didn't take long to locate the sirens, and even shorter then to find Axel, who was in fact distancing himself from the police officers. His lead only grew larger as Barry approached, because he released spikes from the back of his car, flattening many of the police cruisers' tires. Great. The kid had tricked out his sports car. No wonder the cops couldn't catch him.

Luckily this time they weren't working alone.

Barry ran up to the side of Walker's car, and slowed down enough to communicate with him. The teen had a unique style, sporting a yellow leather jacket, a striped blue and white shirt, and an undercut streaked with black.

As he blared "Fuck tha Police," the criminal teen called back, "…fascist losers—what the actual fuck?!"

It was at that moment that he'd noticed Barry racing beside him, hood held up to cover his face.

"Pull over, kid. I don't want to hurt you," Barry warned.

"Pull over? Pull on my dick, cumwad," Axel spat, pressing a button on his dash.

Suddenly, wings extended out from his car. Barry had to slide over them to avoid being tripped.

Worse still, the wings began to tear into the sides of passing vehicles. One completely lost balance and began to flip over. Barry sped to it and leaped through the massive hole that made up the driver's side, grabbed the driver, and dropped her off on the side of the road. He then ran back, diving through the passenger window to save her boyfriend, who he placed beside her, just as the car flipped onto its top for the first time.

The chaos didn't end there. Although Axel retracted his wings, the flipping car was going to cause even more accidents. Thinking on his feet, Barry began to run in circles, creating a cyclone, which he used to launch the car over the edge of the highway and onto an empty patch of grass, where it exploded.

Barry took a second to make sure every civilian was okay, and then took off after Axel. He caught up in the blink of an eye, and began to race around Axel's car.

"Iwarnedyou," his words blurred together.

"Fuck this," Axel muttered, pressing a button marked with a fire emoji.

The sports car suddenly picked up a lot of speed, catching Barry off guard. It slammed against him as he reached the front of the car, and sent him flying off the highway and into oncoming traffic below. Even with super fast reflexes, Barry couldn't react fast enough to avoid crashing into a car.

Drivers slammed on their brakes. The car Barry had fallen onto skidded to a halt. Traffic stopped altogether. People rushed over, as the driver of the damaged car checked on Barry.

"Oh my God. Are you okay?!" he asked.

"Have to…stop…him…" Barry groaned as he forced himself onto his feet, only to collapse to the ground.

"Don't move!" the man said, before crying out. "Can I get a doctor? Somebody call 911!"

But Barry could already feel his bones mending. Despite it all, he should have been dead anyway. Something had protected him. His powers…the energy he felt coursing through him. In his daze, Barry could make out a faint golden aura around him.

He had to keep moving. He had to help stop Axel Walker, because nobody else could.

One hand at a time, Barry pushed himself up. The man protested, but Barry waved him off, and stood upright. Just as another civilian began to reach for him, Barry sped away.

…

The intersection of Johns and Waid was the scene of the crime. It was the very place Wally's parents had died—instantly he was told—after drunkenly driving through a red light right into the path of an eight-wheeler truck. Wally hadn't been in the car. They'd left him home alone as they always did when they went out partying on the weekends.

He could never walk on the ground where they'd been hit, obviously, as it was an intersection in the heart of downtown, but he could stand over the place where their car had stopped flipping on the sidewalk by the wall of—ironically enough—a hospital.

Wally crouched down and looked at the mini-memorial he and the other Wests had built there. Pictures of his parents, young and happy, had been glued to the wall. Underneath them sat a heart-shaped wreath. They'd put it up every Christmas. Wally had hated that ugly wreath.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He picked up the wreath and held it against his chest, softly sobbing. Passerbys gave him a look.

One even asked, "Are you okay? Did you lose your parents?"

To which he shook his head and said, "Mom's inside," indicating the hospital.

The passerby stared at him, unsure of what to do, before continuing on across the street.

Wally didn't notice the sirens until the chase was a block away. Looking for the source of the noise, he saw Axel racing through traffic toward the intersection. Someone screamed. The same passerby who'd checked on Wally was frozen in fright amidst the crosswalk. Axel Walker couldn't swerve to avoid her, or else he'd crash at hundreds of miles an hour into other cars, and he didn't have enough time to slow down.

The reckless teen's eyes widened in shock as he neared the woman.

Wally reacted instinctively, dropping the wreath and kicking up off the ground. He reached the woman just as Axel entered the intersection, and pushed her away. Even as he tried to dive to safety, he knew he wouldn't make it. The car was inches from him. He was finished…ready to see his parents again.

The second passed and there wasn't a thump. No pain. Nothing. Wally opened his eyes and realized he was in someone's arms—a man's. The man lost control and tumbled to the ground, but protected Wally throughout the fall. After crashing against the memorial, the hooded man through off his jacket, which had caught fire. It fell onto the wreath, causing it to light up.

Yet for those few moments, Wally didn't care. He stared at the man's face, his blue eyes, his messy blond hair. This man had saved his life, and he'd done it at super speed.

Realizing the boy could see his face, Barry vibrated to conceal it, but it was too late. Wally wouldn't forget him for his life.

"Sorrygottarun," Barry said, saluting Wally and then speeding after Axel.

Wally stared after the man for nearly half a minute, long after he'd left, before finally realizing the wreath was on fire. Still, Wally just watched it burn. Even as paramedics came to him and rushed him inside, all Wally could think about was the person who'd saved him, the fastest man alive.

…

'_Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…'_

Barry didn't speak to Axel. He didn't offer him a chance to stop. He simply opened the door, grabbed Axel, pinned him against the grass across the street, ran back to his car, and then slowed it to a halt. When he returned to catch Axel, he fully expected the boy to have run off. Instead, he found him leaning against a tree, defeated.

Remembering to vibrate his body to stay disguised, Barry said, "You could have killed dozens of people. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Axel chuckled, staring at the ground. "I was trying to save my life. I turn 18 in a month. You ever been to prison, man?" He looked up, glaring at Barry. "You know what they do to people like me?! It rhymes with fucking grape!"

Barry was taken aback. He didn't know what to say.

"Yeah, I may be a piece of shit, but you aren't any better. All of you do-gooder pricks. You don't know what I had to grow up with. What I had to do to survive. All you rich assholes don't get it," Axel grumbled.

"That doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want—to endanger other people's lives. I'm sorry, Axel. I am…" Barry said, as police cruisers pulled up behind him. "…but grow up."

With that said, Barry disappeared in a flash.

…

After grabbing lunch alone, Barry returned to the station, ready to work. He needed to let what Axel had said simmer for a while. What could he do to help people like him? He couldn't pardon criminals, but with his speed maybe he could do more than the average police scientist. Maybe Chester had been right. Maybe he should fight crime, but certainly he should do more than that. He could build better housing for the poor, and feed the hungry. He could act as a symbol for a better tomorrow. Well, it was something to think about, anyway.

Entering the bullpen, somebody called his name, "Barry!"

Barry turned to find Joe West with Daniel and another boy.

Oh no. No no no no.

…

_**One Minute Ago**_

Joe hadn't been happy at all to get that phone call. He'd told Wally that the instant he saw him in the hospital. He continued to say it as he drove him to the police station, and even now…

"You know what I thought, getting that phone call?" Joe wondered.

"You'd misheard them. I couldn't be out of school. I couldn't have been caught _saving a woman's life_," Wally added.

"While you were playing hooky. You start skipping school at twelve and by sixteen you'll be selling dope. Wally…this isn't what your parents would want," Joe said.

"You'd know, right? 'cause you talked to my dad _so much_ after he knocked up my mom," Wally spat, and instantly regretted it.

His parents had been outsiders in both of their respective families, and after Rudy had drunkenly gotten Mary pregnant, after they lost control of their lives, Joe hadn't spoken to them more than a few times a year, even though they lived just across the Ruby Bridge in Keystone City.

"Wally, your Pop-pop's just trying to tell you…listen, little man, if you need to talk to anyone about all this, just know…you've got us, okay?" Daniel said, bending down to talk on his level.

Wally looked down at his feet and nodded. A few awkward moments passed, and then Joe called, "Barry!"

Wally West followed his Pop-pop's gaze right to a man he instantly recognized: the speedster.

"Barry, I want you to meet my grandson, Wally."

Barry and Wally stared at one another. Both recognized the other, and they knew it, too. Slowly, Wally's lips curled up into a grin.

'_My name is Wally West, and I know who's the fastest man alive.'_


	6. Hero

**A/N: Yet again, I'm so sorry for how late this is! Good news, though, I've finished writing the first storyline. That means there should be a new issue every week for the foreseeable future. OR if you want to read the entire thing now, go to the Infinite Comics forum and finish out the First Steps arc. **

**Also, for reasons I won't delve into here, I've gone back and edited chapters 2-4, making Cisco now Chester Runk, an obese black man even younger than Barry. To clarify, from here on out, you'll see "Chess" or "Chester," not Cisco. Again, the reasoning behind this change is complicated, and has nothing to do with wanting to differentiate the story from the TV show. Feel free to reread the first 5 chapters to reacquaint yourself with this change and the story in general. **

**Fatherofdemons: The release date's weekly now, so you can look forward to that!**

**Heart of the Demons: Glad you like Wally! I really enjoy writing him! Sadly this is the most focus he'll get in this arc.**

**Dekei: Glad Barry's a relatable hero for you. We need more disabled heroes in comics! **

**...**

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 6: Hero

"It's, uh, nice to meet you, Wally," Barry greeted, extending his hand to be shaken.

Wally did just that, his lips curled up into a toothy grin. "Likewise…Barry, right?"

The blond nodded, before looking up at Joe. "Hey, Joe, would it be alright if I showed Wally around?"

Joe hadn't expected such a favor, but he agreed nonetheless. "Sure. But you don't need to feel compelled to—"

"Really, it's no problem," Barry said, as excitement built in Wally's chest.

"Nice guy Barry back at it again," Daniel cooed, patting Barry on the back.

Joe offered Barry another smile in thanks and then turned to his grandson. "Barry's a good man. You could learn a thing or two from him."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Wally sarcastically responded.

"Joe, that's not really…never mind. Wally, how about we…?" Barry motioned away, and Wally started to move in that direction, offering a slight wave back at his relatives in farewell.

The two strolled through the building for about a minute in silence. Barry didn't have the courage to bring up his powers, just in case Wally did not in fact recognize him. On the other hand, the teen grew progressively more impatient, and before long couldn't wait any longer to speak up.

"So how'd you get superpowers?" Wally blurted.

"Keep it down," Barry urged, glancing around to make sure no one had heard him. He continued, "It's a long story. The short of it is…lightning struck me."

"Okay, fine. Don't tell me," Wally muttered, causing Barry to roll his eyes. The teen added, "But you're gonna be a superhero, right?"

"Wally…"

"Oh, come on," Wally insisted, stopping in place. "You can make a difference. I mean, can you imagine how many lives you could save?"

"Can you imagine how dangerous that would be for the people I love?" Barry argued.

"Yeah…but the risk is worth it. God, if I was in your shoes…" Wally trailed off, his gaze foggy.

Barry looked at the boy, but all he could think of was his mother. How he could have saved her life if he'd been fast enough. How he could save a hundred, maybe a thousand mothers so that their children never have to grow up with the shadow of death looming over them. How there would never have to be another kid like him.

"Y'know, my parents died in a car accident. I'm not saying it's your fault, obviously, but…if you do nothing from now on, the people who are killed…their lives are on you," Wally said, finally managing to look Barry in the eyes.

The blond didn't know how to respond. Not just yet, anyway. So he decided to address the obvious."

"Wally, regardless of what I do, you can't tell anyone—"

"Don't stress. I got you. Your secret's safe with me," Wally agreed. "Just…think about what I said, alright?"

Barry offered but a nod in reply, and then patted the boy on his back, saying, "Come on. Let's get back you back to your grandpa."

However, who they found waiting for them wasn't in fact Joe, and was at least twice as scary. Iris West had planted herself in the ground with her hands on her hips, and glared at Wally as he approached her.

"Wallace West, you are in hot water," Iris declared.

While the teen began to protest, Barry found himself transfixed by the person who was waiting beside Iris, someone he recognized but hadn't expected to see in the police station of all places—Len Snart. The muscular man noticed Barry's stare and smirked.

"What? Is this when I'm supposed to say, 'surprise,'" Len joked.

"Barry…" Iris spoke over Wally after she recognized the predicament, "This is—"

"—Len. Len Snart," Barry interrupted, struggling to contain his emotions. "I didn't realize you two were—Len and I just met. Iris, we…I haven't seen you since—"

"You woke up, yeah," Iris admitted.

"When you were in my apartment building it was because you were visiting—"

"—Screwing—" Wally coughed out.

"—him…" Barry realized.

After shooting Wally an icy glare, Iris said, "Yeah, we've been dating…how long now? Five months?"

"Six in a week," Len agreed.

"Wow. That's…awesome. Um, I—I'm sorry; I just have to get back to work, but we should definitely catch up later," Barry managed, desiring nothing more in that moment than to bury himself in a hole and die.

"Jitters. Sometime this week," Iris threw out.

"Sure. I mean, yeah, sounds great," Barry began to back up toward the labs, "Nice seeing you two, and, uh, nice meeting you, Wall—"

He cut himself off when he bumped into someone's desk. After quickly apologizing to its occupant, he waved back at the others and then hurried off to the labs, silently scolding himself the whole way there.

…

Work cleared Barry's head faster than a speeding bullet…until he had to help Forrest with the impossible case. It was then that he thought back to his conversation with Wally, and he struggled to think of anything other than the same two images. First, his mother's corpse. Second, however, was something new, something brighter. The Flash, the fastest man alive, his favorite comic book superhero. His inspiration. Barry had always wanted to save lives, to make a difference, and now that he could…he couldn't pass up this opportunity.

So when his workday ended, the instant he was in the clear, Barry sped down to STAR Labs. After getting clearance, he ran straight into Elias' lab, only to find the scientist hunched over a shimmering orange tube. Chester was nowhere to be found, but Gehenna and Max had stationed themselves behind Elias, watching him work.

"Hey," Barry greeted.

All three scientists jumped in surprise.

"Mr. Allen…my God," Elias grumbled. He didn't even try to fake a smile. "What do you need?"

"I came here to ask you guys for help…I want to do something more with my powers. I want to fight crime, save lives, act as a symbol of hope for this city," Barry admitted.

"You want to be a superhero? Give me a break," Max said, walking around the workbench to address Barry.

"That's a…dangerous idea, Barry," Gehenna agreed.

"If you want to get yourself killed, Allen, have at it, but leave us out of your silly crusade. We don't have the time, nor the resources to help you," Elias added.

"Just a few days ago, you would have done anything for me. What changed?" Barry wondered.

"A lot, including but not limited to the fact that I just discovered Arthur Park, one of the key figures in our company and _the_ father of green energy, is leaving STAR Labs next year to go work for Ferris Air. So excuse me if I'm in a bad mood," Elias spat, tossing tweezers aside.

Max jumped in, growing continuously more passionate as he spoke, "Regardless of our resources, Barry, just think. What's gonna happen when you face someone who's as fast as you, but has none of your morals? Or someone who's invincible. The media's calling these 'gifted' people 'metahumans.' Just think about that. We've got a fancy name for them now; that's how mainstream super powers are becoming. If you follow through with this, some day one of the bad metas is gonna get lucky, and land a blow on you that you _won't_ recover from. Do you really want that? Do you really want to die?!"

"If I'm fast enough, that won't be a problem," Barry retorted.

"You don't get it, Barry. This isn't a game! You will die!" Max exploded, his voice suddenly quivering with emotion.

Gehenna reached out to him, but he shrugged her away, hurrying out of the room. Barry was speechless. He watched Max go, and after making eye contact with Gehenna, who silently nodded him on, he chased after his roommate. Elias offered only the briefest look of sympathy before he returned to his work.

Suddenly, Chester appeared through a side door, his hair a mess. "What happened? I heard screaming. Did the mongoose break out again?"

Gehenna sighed, shaking her head, "Go back to sleep, Chess."

"Who...said I was…" Chester began, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. Finished, he said, "Um…I'll get back to, uh…work."

…

Max ducked into an open corridor and leaned against the wall. Taking a deep breath, he exasperatedly ran his hands over his face, and took a moment to gather himself. Composed, he began to turn back around right when a gust of wind blew through the hallway.

"Talk to me, Max."

"Jesus, Barry!" Max had to step back to keep from falling in surprise. Barry had run up behind him at super speed.

The young CSI blushed, glancing away, before he managed, "Sorry. Still figuring this stuff out. I'll…uh, speed around to your front next time, or say 'hi' in advance, or—"

"—just don't do it."

"—or not do it. Right. Normal speed to catch up to people from now on. You got it," Barry agreed.

The two stood in place, silent. Max opened his mouth to speak and began to step around Barry, but the speedster stopped him before he could.

"Please, Max, we…" Barry shrugged. "I know we aren't close. We barely know each other. But I want to make this work. You know my biggest secret. I'm not saying you have to tell me yours, but…tell me something."

Max sighed, nodding as he leaned back against the wall. "You want to know why I'm against the 'superhero' gig? It's because heroes get killed, Barry. Every. Day."

"You said that already, and I—you're right. Someone else is gonna come along with powers like mine. Someone—a lot of someones—are going to get powers, period, and they could kill me. But risking your life is part of the job. Cops know that going in, and so do I," Barry argued.

_"I fucking know that!"_ Max blurted. Barry was taken aback. Max looked away, and mustered the courage to continue, "My older brother, Jamie, was a cop. Our parents died when we were young, and while we had family on the reservation…"

His anger returned, but Barry could tell it wasn't directed at him. Max managed to keep it contained. "It's tough out there. You're so isolated, it's like you don't exist, and to the government that's true. It's difficult to make a living, let alone support others, so…we left. Jamie became a police officer to make end's meat, to put me through college. He gave up all of his dreams, everything, for me, and yet he never stopped smiling. He stayed optimistic throughout it all. My brother, in and out of the house, was a hero…and all he got for it were two bullets in the chest."

"He led a raid against this wacko cult that had been committing human sacrifices. The 'high priest' had a gun. Jamie tried to talk him down. He could have shot him, taken him down before the nutjob could react, but he was too kind to do that. Jamie believed in the goodness of people…Two shots. That's all the priest got off. Both hit Jamie."

Max finally looked Barry in the eyes. "You want to know why I'm so pessimistic about your chances? It's not just because I'm practical, because I know this is the real world, not a comic book. It's because when I look at you, Barry, I see my brother. I have since the day I first met you. I know when the time comes, you'll put everyone's life before yours—even the criminal's. And that will get you killed."

Barry began, "Max—"

Max interrupted him, "I never got the chance to tell my brother that… Don't do it, Barry. For your own sake."

"I have the opportunity to save lives, to _change_ lives. I can't pass that up," Barry simply responded.

Max nodded in resignation. "In all your selflessness, Barry, you've forgotten to think about the people who care about you. What will they do when you're gone?"

With that, Max returned to the lab, leaving Barry to watch him go, unsure of what to say.

…

After giving himself an eternity to think—what most people would consider half a minute—Barry followed Max back into the lab. There he found the remaining three scientists hard at work, including Chester, who'd set up shop at a work bench.

His mind set, Barry said, "I need a suit."

All eyes, except Max's, focused in on him. Elias scowled, tossing aside his tools and work goggles to address Barry. Before he could speak, however, Barry continued.

"Just a suit. I won't ask for your help with anything else. You give me that, and I'll never bother you again," Barry finished.

"Mr. Allen, must I repeat myself? We don't have the time, nor the resources to build you a fancy costume," Elias retorted.

"Um, we don't have to make him anything. The suit's already been designed and produced," Chester interjected, grinning excitedly. Elias looked back at him incredulously, but that didn't faze him.

"What are you talking about?" Gehenna asked.

Chester rolled his eyes. "Does nobody listen to me around here? I told y'all days ago, Barry can use the suit I made for firefighters. I, uh…may have already tweaked it in preparation for this."

Nobody knew what to say. Elias sighed and motioned Barry over.

"Go on then," he grumbled.

Chester's face lit up like a Christmas tree and he hurried over to a side door covered with a poster labeled, 'DO NOT ENTER. GENIUS AT WORK.' Below it, another that read, 'This lab kills fascists.' Barry walked over to him, grinning as he looked over the door.

"It's good to see you, Chess. And I like your posters," Barry said.

"You think those are cool, wait till you see the toys," Chester remarked, leading Barry inside.

Chester Runk's lab was, in simplest terms, geek heaven. Littered with posters, figures, books, and comics, it bled nerd…and that was without mentioning the tech. A number of his projects were strewn about the room in such a fashion that it looked like a tornado had hit it. Some sparkled curiously. Others hummed like they were about to explode, but Chester paid them no mind. In the middle of the mess was the king of all 'toys,' the thing Barry cared most about—the suit.

Colored a sleek crimson patterned with yellow lightning bolts around the arms and across the waste, the suit looked incredible. Chester had designed the boots with a matching yellow shade, and workshopped a mask that seemed simultaneously protective and comfortable. Best of all was the heart of the costume—a smooth white emblem that surrounded a gleaming gold lightning bolt.

"Same MO as the boots. You don't have to worry about friction, and it should be comfortable. The only downside? Not much protection, but if you run fast enough that won't be a problem…" Chester explained, fading off when he noticed Barry looking down at his phone. "You good?"

It was Henry. Barry declined the call, figuring it could wait, and stuffed the phone back in his pocket before he could check it for texts. His father was probably just asking about dinner. Henry wasn't the most patient guy, and this wouldn't have been the first time he'd bugged Barry about nothing important.

"Yeah, um…why no lenses?" Barry wondered, trying to get back on track.

"You haven't had an issue with, er, bugs, have you?" Chester said.

"No."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem. Figure you've got some baseline aura that protects you. Might help you survive getting, like, punched off a building, too," Chester hypothesized.

"Happy thoughts, Chess," Barry said.

"Right. My bad."

Barry couldn't stop smiling. Just looking at the suit sent sparks down his spine. He wanted to take off running, and never stop.

"Thank you," Barry said, stepping forward to touch the costume. He looked over at Chester, "This means a lot to me."

Chester blushed, looking away, "Well, y'know, it's my pleasure. Just repay me by kicking some bad guy ass, yeah?"

Barry chuckled, "You got it, man."

In the blink of an eye, Barry boxed up the costume and held it at his side. On their way out of the room, Chester said, "I have to ask, you thought of a name yet?"

Barry's lips curled up into a sly grin. "You ever read comics?"

"Who do you think I am—Max?" Chester retorted.

Barry snorted, amused, paused a second, and then said, "I was thinking I'd go with the Flash."

Chester smiled. "Dude, great minds think alike."

He extended his fist to be bumped, to which Barry happily obliged.

"Allen! Look up!" Max called.

Barry first glanced at Max, before realizing he, and everyone else in the room, were staring at the TV screen. The camera was fixed on two pictures. The first was of a middle-aged white man and the second a young Latina woman. The headline read: 'KILLER'S COUNT SKYROCKETS.'

"…both victims, George Taylor and Lana Moreno, had no living relatives…" droned the reporter.

Barry's phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it, transfixed by the news.

"While you two were busy bro-ing out, the whole city found out about the impossible case," Max remarked.

Gold light flashed and an unnatural wind picked up. By the time Max turned around, Barry had already left the building.

…

Entering his precinct's HQ, Barry discovered the building was in chaos. He had expected as much, but to actually see it…the news had set the city on fire. He ran up to the police lab, and hunted through the crowd of frantic scientists to find his supervisor, James Forrest.

"Hey, what can I do to help?" Barry asked, placing his costume box onto a table beside him.

The older scientist looked up, equally surprised and delighted to see Barry.

"Thank God. Barry, I need you to run a fingerprint for me," Forrest said, shoving a glass slip into his hands.

"No problem. Is everyone else working on the—"

"—the case that blew up the internet? Of course," Forrest began to hurry away, before realizing Barry hadn't moved. "What? No one's told you?"

"News got out about some of the victims," Barry said.

"Some? Barry, they all leaked. The whole case did. But what's worse, what's really made this go viral, the count keeps rising," Forrest said, turning away again.

"Wait, what count?" Barry pushed.

Forrest sighed, stopping only for a moment to say, "The murders, Barry. There have been eight every hour for the last three hours."

And with that, Forrest disappeared into the crowd, while Barry remained frozen in place. He looked down at the fingerprint sample, then to the costume box, and finally up at the doorway. This wasn't even a debate for him. He set the glass aside, grabbed the box, and pushed his way through the crowd to the entrance. Without a moment to lose, he sprinted out of the building, and the second he could he changed into his suit, creating a whirlwind of red.

…

Golden lightning trailed after Barry as he raced through Central City, checking every nook, cranny and crack. Nothing in Brookfield Heights. Same in Chubbuck. Danville was clean. Downtown…?

Barry slowed as he caught sight of someone moving just as fast as he was. The figure was cloaked in red and seemed to vibrate its way into …STAR Labs?!

He turned to chase after the figure, and, realizing time wasn't on his side, took a deep breath and focused. The figure looked as if it had vibrated its molecules so quickly it phased through the wall, just like Barry had hypothesized all those months ago. Maybe he could mimic it…?

Barry sped up his molecules, and when he felt like he was moving fast enough he ran into the building…literally. As much as it hurt, he wasn't seriously injured, and he'd managed to blow a hole through the wall. Grunting in pain, Barry sped down the halls, looking for the figure.

Barry heard an extended, low-pitch sound that he recognized as a scream distorted by his superfast senses. He ran toward its source, moving quickly down a familiar path through the halls of STAR Labs. Barry sped straight into Elias' lab and discovered the cloaked figure had pinned Max against a wall with a bolt-shaped knife held to his throat.

As the other scientists watched, helpless, the cloaked figure raised its weapon. Barry furrowed his brow in determination and blindsided the figure. Crashing onto a table, it tried to recover, but Barry stopped it in time. He then pushed the figure against the wall and held it there.

Slowing down, Barry removed the figure's hood, only to find a worry-worn face he recognized all too well.

"Dad…?" Barry muttered, looking into the gold-tinged eyes of his father, Henry Allen.


	7. Aftermath

**A/N: Nothing to say, so I'll skip right to reviews. **

**Heart of the Demons: Glad Chess is sufficiently compelling! He's one of my favorite characters to write. **

**Boysa boysa: Ooh boy, a long review! First off, thanks for dropping this! I can't comment on the things you'd like to see for fear of spoilers, but I promise I won't lose track of what people enjoy about this title. Things will change—that's the nature of storytelling—but it should feel appropriate, natural, and most of all compelling. **

…

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 7: Aftermath

Barry's eyes must have been playing a trick on him. That face…this man…it couldn't be…

"Dad?" he quietly uttered.

But there was no mistaking that chiseled jaw. Barry had inherited it from him, along with his golden-blond hair. Oftentimes people had joked he was like Harry Potter; he looked just like his father, Henry, except for his bright blue eyes, a feature he shared with his mother.

In shock, Barry couldn't bring himself to act, leaving the red-cloaked man before him, presumably his father, to grunt in anger and send him flying with a palm thrust. Barry slid across a cluttered work bench, sending a computer and a half-developed gadget onto the tile floor. By the time he recovered, his father had already sped away, but Barry chased after him nonetheless.

He briefly caught sight of his father, who met up with another superfast, red-cloaked figure on the freeway. Suddenly, they both stopped and held their arms out, successfully clotheslining Barry. When he recovered, he discovered the two speedsters had disappeared.

Speeding around the city, he checked every nook and cranny he could, but didn't find them. Defeated, Barry sighed, and then sped off.

…

Barry quickly returned to STAR Labs and made short work of repairing the wall he'd damaged, much to the shock of Elias, who had been silently bemoaning his luck as he examined it.

"Mister—Mr. Allen," Elias stammered.

"ThewallwasmyfaultandagaincallmeBarry," Barry speed-talked as he rebuilt it. Slowing to a stop, he added, "There. Good as new."

Elias stepped forward, gently touched a piece of it, only to send the whole thing crashing down.

"Might need some mortar," Elias sarcastically muttered, as Barry blushed.

"I'll, um, meet you in the lab," he said, before speeding off.

There, he frightened the remainder of the scientists, leaving Max to yell, "For the last time, stop doing that!"

"Sorry," Barry replied, although at this point he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

As Gehenna spoke, Barry removed his mask and wore it back like a hood, "I think I speak for all of us when I say: what the hell was that?"

"We're talking about Max almost being killed by a speedster in a cloak, not Barry's entrances, right? Because as scary as they are, I have to admit they're dope," Chester said. Upon Gehenna's incredulous look, he added, "What? I'm calling people with super speed speedst—"

"Yes, we're talking about the speedster," Gehenna interrupted.

"So you're cool with the word 'speedster?'" Chester continued.

"Moving on…" Gehenna said.

Max, who until this point had remained silent, unable to tear his gaze off the ground, looked up at Barry and said, "That was your dad, wasn't it?"

Before Barry could respond, the lab doors opened and in walked Elias.

"What have I missed?" he interjected.

"Barry's dad tried to kill me," Max said.

"Colloquially speaking or literally…?" Elias replied.

Max simply answered the question by glaring at him.

"Barry, is Max right? Was your dad the man in the cloak?" Gehenna asked, utterly bewildered. Even Chester couldn't bring himself to crack a joke or interject awkwardly.

Barry took a deep breath, sat on the edge of a table, and mustered the courage to say, "Yeah, I think so. I had no idea…he never seemed like…did you see he could vibrate his molecules so quickly he could pass through walls? That he's that fast, that he can keep a secret like this, do you know what that means?"

"You guys have good genes?" Chester offered, only to be smacked in the shoulder by Gehenna.

"When my mother was murdered, they questioned my father first. He was at a party. His friends backed him up on that. But what if…what if he took a break, went to 'get a breath of fresh air' or 'go to the bathroom'? What if he used his powers to go home and kill my mother quickly enough that nobody noticed he was gone?" Barry struggled to finish.

As much as Max wanted to agree with him, he knew as his friend he had to say, "Barry, just because your father is mixed up in this doesn't mean…"

"He could have killed my mom!" Barry roared, standing up, his eyes full of tears. "He's probably killed at least a dozen innocent people already! You saw that knife he had? Every other 'impossible' victim was killed by a jagged blade just like that one! He's a murderer!"

Barry had to turn away from the others. He couldn't look at them. He buried his head in his hands and tried to stop the tears from coming, but he only made himself cry harder. His father, the man who had raised him, who he'd trusted with his every secret—save his powers—was one of the people responsible for dozens of murders. The murders…

"Are they still out there? Are people still being killed?" Barry, still sobbing, turned around to ask.

Chester, speechless, shook his head 'no,' lifting his phone for Barry to see. The blond read through numerous tweets from news sources and the CCPD claiming the killings had stopped. They were calling the night "Bloody Monday."

"Thank God that's over. We can finally rid ourselves of this case and leave it to the proper authorities," Elias pushed.

"No." The surprise speaker—Max. He continued, all eyes on him, "No, we're in this together now. If Barry's dad…the police force is compromised. We can't trust anyone outside of this room. The best way, maybe the only way to save this city is to save it ourselves."

Barry didn't say anything, but the thankful look he gave Max spoke volumes.

"You know I'm in," Chester interjected.

"Likewise," Gehenna said, putting a hand on Chester's shoulder.

"Oh, for the love of—" Elias cried out, only to be interrupted by Barry.

"You want to win back public approval? Save the city," he said, wiping away his tears.

Elias paused to consider his point, then sighed and said, "Fine. What's the harm in throwing our bloody lives away?"

Barry felt a teensy grin sneak over his lips, and he turned back to Max, "Let's get right to it then. Max, did my father say anything to you?"

"Yeah. Just one thing: 'die for the Lightning.' But here's the thing—that phrase is the same sort of BS the cultists who killed my brother preached. Their name was 'the Children of the Lightning,'" Max explained.

"I hate to ask this, but can you look them up?" Barry said.

"We've all got demons to deal with, Barry. Consider it done," Max said, sliding his chair over to a computer and getting to work.

"You all research everything you can about these guys. I'll head back to the station and gather whatever info I can. We'll meet up tomorrow morning to go over what we've learned," Barry said.

"Sir, yes, sir," Chester saluted.

"Excuse me, Barry, but who are you to give orders?" Elias stopped him before he could leave.

"You have a better plan?" Barry pushed.

"…no."

"Then sit your butt down and start googling," Barry ordered.

Elias exchanged a look with Gehenna, who motioned him to a computer, before he reluctantly got to work. Barry wasted not a second more in the lab, speeding away.

Slyly watching him go, Gehenna noted, "I like this side of Barry. He's…confident."

Max stared grimly at the door after his friend, before shaking his head and saying, "No. He's just motivated."

…

The police station was barely less crowded than when Barry had last been inside it. A night like tonight, it was no wonder his fellow officers looked equally drained and alert. They had to be on their toes just in case the murderers came back. Speaking of…

"Forrest, sir," Barry called to his supervisor, who turned to greet him. "Do we have an update on the murderers' IDs?"

"You'd know if you'd been here, Barry," Forrest coolly replied, hurrying off to do who-knows-what.

"I'm sorry, sir," Barry apologized, following him around the lab, "Something important came up. Something related to the murders."

"Barry…" Forrest took his apology to heart, but couldn't shake the cold feeling in his chest. Still, he sighed and moved on, "To answer your question, no, we have no idea who the killers are. Now, if you wouldn't mind informing me where exactly you went and why."

"My father called me. I went looking for him, afraid he—"

"—is perfectly fine," came an all too familiar voice right behind him.

Barry wanted nothing more than to run away, to avoid the man behind him. However, he mustered his courage and turned around to face his father, Henry.

"Dad…" Barry greeted, meeting his father's gaze.

Did he recognize him in costume? What exactly did he know, and what was his endgame? Looking in his father's eyes, Barry couldn't read him at all. He didn't seem cheery exactly, but that was hardly unusual for a night like tonight. If anything, he seemed positively normal.

'_All psychopaths do…' _Barry glumly thought.

"Forrest, would you mind if I take Barry home? He's still recovering, and an all-nighter won't help anything," Henry spoke over his son's shoulder.

Forrest didn't like the idea, but he saw his point. "That's fine, but I need you here at eight sharp, Barry."

"Yes, sir," Barry agreed before following his father away.

The two walked in silence till they were nearly out of the building. Barry's mind raced. What could he do? What should he do?

Finally, Henry spoke up, "What a night."

"Yeah," Barry grimaced, "A real shocker."

They exited the building and entered the parking lot. The second their feet touched pavement, Barry grabbed his father and sped him away.

…

Slowing down enough so the throw wouldn't kill him, Barry tossed his father against the wall of Elias' lab. STAR Labs' resident scientists jerked back in surprise, but no one screamed this time.

"Barry…what…?" Henry couldn't seem the find the right words.

"TALK!" Barry roared, as the others rose to back him up, not a single one sure what to say or how to react.

"About what? What's going on? Where are we? How did you…?" Henry's voice faded.

"Don't lie to me! I know you're one of the killers, so talk! And don't think for one second that if you run off I won't catch you," Barry growled, losing control of his emotions. All of his confusion and anger had exploded out of him at once.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Henry muttered hazily. "God, you're…fast. Was it—was it the lightning bolt? …Am I dreaming?"

"Stop playing dumb," Barry demanded, stepping forward.

Running over with two small puck-shaped gadgets in his hands, Chester said, "Slow down a sec. I can monitor his vitals with these, see if he's lying."

Barry ran a hand through his hair and turned away, resisting the temptation to continue screaming at his father. Meanwhile, Chester attached each node to a side of Henry's head, much to the older man's distaste.

"I'll do whatever you want, son. Just talk to me. You said I'm a…a killer? Max…what's he talking about?" Henry asked, looking at the only other person in the room he knew.

Max couldn't bring himself to verbally respond. Instead, he simply glared at Henry.

"Tonight, dad…Henry," Barry began, "I caught you trying to kill Max. I'm the man in red, the one who stopped Axel Walker yesterday, and I know you're a member of the Children of the Lightning."

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," Henry muttered.

"He's lying," Chester clarified, looking at a tablet.

Barry sped over to Henry and slammed him against the wall. "STOP IT! STOP LYING!"

His eyes seemingly filled with genuine terror, Henry broke eye contact with his son, "I know about the Children, but I'm not one of them. I'd—"

"Lie," Chester said, and Barry shoved his father against the wall again.

"—I never have and never would kill anyone for them! I'm not a cold-blooded murderer," Henry finished.

Barry looked back at Chester, who shrugged and said, "He at least think he's telling the truth."

Barry backed off, leaving his father to collapse back against the wall. "Keep talking."

Henry sighed and continued, "When I was a kid, I got mixed up with the Children. I was looking for…support. They offered that. You see, we never visited my parents for a reason. They were…cruel, and I ran away from them. But I was still just a kid. I needed help. The Children came to me, and said they could give me just that. But before long, I realized just how crazy they were. Weekly fasts and insane rituals all for some stupid god they believed would grant them eternal life…it was too much for me, so I ran away again. This time I steered to the right side of the law. Got pulled into the force. Met your mother." His voice softened. He looked Barry in the eyes. "Had you."

Throughout the story, Barry had occasionally looked back at Chester to see if his father was lying, but the young man continuously gave him thumbs up. So when his father finished, he didn't know what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to speak. His father wasn't done.

His eyes darkening again, Henry finished his story. "When your mother died, they came to me, said they could bring her back. They said their god, Savitar, he could revive her. I was a grieving, broken man. The idea seemed ridiculous, but it gave me hope. I decided to give it a shot, but I swore to myself the instant things got dangerous, I'd back out. And I did. It took me a couple years, but I found out they were committing human sacrifices, so I sold them out. Helped in the raid, too…"

"My brother led that raid. He didn't make it out alive," Max spoke up, caught between grief and rage.

Henry looked up, his eyes bleeding the tears of a still damaged man. "I'm sorry. I never knew him personally, but he seemed like a good man."

"He was," Max coolly responded.

Henry nodded solemnly and then looked at Barry. "I swear to you, son, I haven't even spoken with a member since that day. I'm not your killer."

Chester gave another thumbs up. Barry didn't know what to think about what he'd just heard. His father was telling the truth…but then what the hell had happened? Who had he seen? Did his father have a twin he didn't know about? Was it mind control? Did that even exist?

Barry took a deep breath and faced the others. "We need to keep him here overnight. Someone needs to watch him at all times. The rest can get some sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow."

"I'll take first shift," Gehenna offered.

"Thanks," Barry said, "Call me when it's my turn." He looked down at his father. "Dad, I'm not gonna pretend like I know what's going on, but—"

"I need to stay here. I understand. I'll do whatever it takes to make you trust me," Henry agreed.

Barry nodded, still utterly conflicted, and began to back up. Before he could get too far, however, his father stopped him.

"Barry…" Henry said, "Are you a superhero?"

Barry couldn't help it. He smiled. "Something like that."

…

"I want every possible suspect brought in tonight. Do I make myself clear?" the commissioner said to a room full of police officers.

"Crystal," Joe West agreed, as the others nodded.

"Do whatever it takes. We have to find these killers before the National Guard is brought in," the commissioner said, and then muttered under his breath, "Before I lose my job."

…

The officer kicked the door down without a second's hesitation. He rushed in the two-room apartment alongside three other cops, each with their firearm drawn.

Mick Rory jerked out of bed and put his hands in the air. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Miguel Rory, we have a warrant for your arrest," the lead officer explained, circling around the ex-con to cuff him.

"On what charge?" Mick wondered, anger burning in his chest.

"Murder," the lead officer stated, reaching for him.

"Like hell," Mick fiercely whispered. He pulled the lead officer into a hostage position and drew the man's gun on him before any of the other cops could so much as flinch.

"Any of you assholes gets trigger happy and Officer Dickface here gets to retire early," Mick warned, pointing the pistol at the lead officer's head.

"Put your guns down!" the man panicked.

The other cops hesitated, but did as they were told. In two clean motions, Mick punched the window over his bed, shattering it, and kicked the lead officer forward, knocking the cops over. He then dived out of the window before anyone could fire, and landed in the open garbage bin below. Something Snart had taught him: always have an exit strategy.

Mick had disappeared into the shadows of the night before a single cop could locate him.

…

Wally couldn't sleep. The constant rip roaring police cars outside his window had drawn his curiosity, but Iris had refused to let him watch the News. Still, she seemed to forget he had a smartphone. The murders had at first shocked him, but slowly rage replaced his confusion.

If Wally had Barry's powers, none of this would have happened. He'd have stopped the killers after their first victim. Maybe that wasn't fair to Barry. Maybe he didn't have his powers at that point in time, but still…

Wally heard knocking at his door and said, "Come in."

He could make out Iris in the darkness. His aunt leaned against the doorway and waited a few moments to consider what to say before speaking.

"I know you've heard about tonight. I wasn't…it doesn't make sense, but I just…I wanted to protect you, and I wasn't thinking straight," Iris explained, before adding, "But we're safe now. Pop-pop and the others are gonna find the killers."

"No, they won't," Wally simply replied. He silently finished his thought, _'Whatever's going on, it's out of their hands. Only Barry can stop them now.' _

"You have to trust in the police force, Wally. Figuring stuff like this out is literally their job…"

"Iris," Wally interrupted.

His aunt paused, before saying, "Yeah?"

"If you could make a difference, if you could save lives, but at the cost of your own, would you do it?" he asked.

Iris was taken aback. Wally certainly wasn't your average twelve-year-old but still, what had inspired that?

"I…that's a difficult question to answer. I'd like to think so, yeah," Iris admitted. "Why?"

"No reason. …I—I'm gonna try to get some sleep. Got school tomorrow," Wally said, pulling his covers over him and lying down.

"If they don't cancel it," Iris muttered to herself.

"Huh?" Wally said.

"Nothing. Just…sleep tight. Let me know if you need anything," Iris said, closing the door.

Before she could, Wally said, "Hey, Iris?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Iris softly smiled. "I love you, too, Wally. Good night."

"Night."

…

Early in the morning, before dawn, Gehenna awoke to the sounds of typing. She stood up from her resting place on an air mattress and blinked to make out the others in the darkness. Elias had, surprisingly enough, stuck around and even worked a shift. However, now he and Chester had both collapsed on the hard tile floor. Henry was sound asleep on an air mattress, and Max…well, Max was the one typing.

"What time is it?" Gehenna whispered.

"5:47," Max quietly replied.

Gehenna yawned. "Your shift was over 17 minutes ago. Want me to call Barry?"

Max shook his head. "No. Let him sleep."

Gehenna watched him for a few moments, before sitting down beside him. "If you're gonna double up shifts, 'least you could use is company."

"And a Redbull," Max quipped.

"I'll go see what sort of caffeinated witchcraft I can concoct," Gehenna playfully replied, rising.

As she left, Max said, "You don't have to stay up with me, Gen."

Gehenna paused, smiled, and then continued on her way, saying, "You don't have to act like a lone wolf all the time."

Max smirked, and then got back to work.

…

Leonard Snart needed his beauty sleep. He grew surly if he didn't get at least a decent seven hours of rest. It was one of his many quirks, and the sort of the thing the other Rogues used to joke about. Even Iris couldn't quell his frustration if he were awakened early, but that didn't stop someone from knocking on his door in the wee hours of the morning.

Groaning, Snart rolled out of bed, threw on boxers, and walked over to his front door. He opened it, ready to chew out whoever was waiting for him, only to discover an out of breath, sweat-drowned Mick Rory.

"Only place I could think to go," he huffed. "Ran straight here."

"Looks like it," Snart muttered, too shocked to yell at him. He let Mick in, and the ex-con stumbled over to his couch, then proceeded to collapse onto it.

"Police are after me. They think I killed my sister," Mick explained, before weakly stating, "I'm not going to jail again."

"Let me get you some water," Snart said, moving back to the kitchen, but Mick stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"One last thing," Mick began. He smirked. "Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep, princess."

Snart grinned, but smacked Mick over the head nonetheless. "Shut up and relax."

"Yes, sir."

…

In a darkened church lit by candles and nothing but, nearly fifty cloaked figures stood on one side of bronze bench emblazoned with the image of an armored man running. Around the building, traditional Christian icons had been painted over with yellow lightning bolts. Two of the cloaked figures wielded similarly shaped knives.

The head priest, an elderly woman with long white hair and a spear reminiscent of the blades, stood on the other side of the bench and boomed, "Tomorrow, our savior returns!"

The hooded figures cheered, but their leader quickly silenced them.

"Before his departure, The Distant Son brought news of The Demon, a demigod gifted with the Lightning. As prophesied, he who banished our god from the Earth has reincarnated, and tomorrow we send our three warriors into battle to slay The Demon and return with the energy necessary to give our lord and master human form – to revive the Chosen Son!" Motioning to the two armed figures, the priest said, "Step forward, our warriors—The Ghost and The Fallen."

The two hooded figures with knives did just that, and knelt before the bearded priest. A storm raged above as the priest put her spear over each of the 'warriors.' Yellow energy raced from its tip into them, and surrounded The Ghost and The Fallen in an electric-like aura.

"Take the power we retrieved tonight and go. Recruit The Distant Son, find The Demon, and slay him! The fate of our lord, our master, our god _Savitar_ lies in your hands!"


	8. The Chosen Son

**A/N: And with this chapter, we end the second act of First Steps. Hope you like cliffhangers. ;) **

**Hearts of the Demons: Thanks for reviewing! Expect Henry to continue to play an important role in this story.**

**Boysa boysa: Won't give away any spoilers, but trust in the story. My take on Savitar is not like the show's. **

…

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 8: The Chosen Son

"Hm. Tough shit," Snart casually said, as if being hunted by the cops for the murder of your sister was as mundane as the weather.

"I didn't kill her, Snart," Mick growled back, anger already bubbling up inside him at the man's apparent apathy.

"I believe you. Wouldn't be the first time cops blamed a repeater for someone else's crime," Snart offered.

"Ain't nothing repeated about me. I did my time. I'm done being a criminal," Mick spat.

"Then why are you here?"

That stung. Snart knew it would. Mick's gaze fell to the floor, and his whole body slackened in resignation. Snart wasn't through just yet, however.

"You know what the other Rogues called you behind your back?" he continued before his friend could reply, "Heat Wave. I'm sure you've heard the term before."

Mick sighed and nodded. This wasn't news to him. "'s when cops are on a whole crew's ass for something one or two of 'em did."

"And the others called you that even after Walker joined. _Axel Walker_, the human time bomb. You brought the Heat Wave on and off the job, robbing gas stations, burning houses to the ground. It's a miracle we were never caught. Even when we were sitting on our asses, you went out of your way to break the law. It's in your blood, Mick. You're a Rogue through and through."

"That's why the cops sent a whole squad after you. Any regular Joe and it would've been one, maybe two guys. But you? A team. You're a criminal, Mick. A Rogue. I know it. The cops sure as hell know it. And deep down, I bet you do, too," Snart finished.

Mick looked up and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could begin, someone knocked on the front door. Len glanced that way, and then silently motioned Mick over to the pantry. He complied without hesitation.

"Len, it's me. Open up," came Iris West's voice from the other side of the door.

Without even bothering to check the peep hole, Len opened it.

"Hey, beautiful. How—" Len choked on his words, suddenly remembering, "Shit. Breakfast. We were gonna grab—"

"It's…fine," Iris said, not really meaning it. Entering his apartment, she quickly noticed the pallet on his couch, "Did you have a guest over?"

"A friend," Snart quickly explained. "He left early this morning. That's why I forgot about our date—not that it's an excuse. Listen, babe, give me a few hours to get my shit together and clock in at work, and then lunch is on me."

He began to shepherd her back toward the door, but she refused, crossing her arms as she faced him.

"Are you in a rush to get me out of here?" Iris stated as much as she asked the question.

"I'd love to spend all morning with you—you know that—but I have to get to work," Snart said.

Iris wasn't remotely convinced, but she agreed with a nod anyway. Len wasn't the only one who had a job. Heading toward the door, she said, "12:15. Dot Wo. You're paying."

"When do I not?" Upon her look, Snart added, "Joking! I'm joking!"

"Watch yourself, Leonard," Iris teased, leaning in for a kiss. Snart returned it in kind, and then led Iris out of his apartment. "Bye."

"Bye, babe," Snart replied, shutting the door after her.

In the clear, Mick felt comfortable leaving the pantry, Pop Tarts in his hands. He raised an eyebrow teasingly at Snart, and spoke through a mouthful of food.

"Gwilfwiend, mm?"

Snart grumbled back, "Shut up."

…

"I'msosorryIsleptpastmyalarm," Barry muttered a mile a minute as he sped into STAR Labs. He then set down a drink carrier full of coffees, saying, "Ibroughtcoffee."

"Relax. We let you sleep in," Max mumbled as he nabbed one of the coffees.

Gehenna offered a nod in reassurance. Barry smiled back at them, then looked over at his father, his mind already on the larger issue. The fact that he was still here was a good sign, right?

"You fine, Dad?" Barry asked.

Before he'd arrived, Henry had been locked in conversation with Gehenna. Oddly enough, the two shared a common interest in Chinese action flicks.

"I'm a-okay, Bare," Henry replied, shooting him a smile to further his point.

"Yeah, he didn't, like, kill us all in half a second in our sleep last night, so that was nice," Chess admitted, "Also, can we just address the fact that we wouldn't have been able to stop him if he'd tried. No offense, Mr. Allen."

"None taken, because I was never a threat. I'm not fast like you, son, and I'm certainly not a murderer," Henry said.

Barry wanted nothing more than to believe his father, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something weird was going on with him. Who else could he have seen last night? Luckily, Barry didn't have to speak his mind. Max did it for him.

"So…what? We're supposed to believe that was your secret twin?" Max grumbled, still wary of the man after his near-death experience.

"This is straight up Luke-and-Leia insanity," Chess interjected.

"I don't have a twin brother," Henry firmly stated. "Your eyes must have played tricks on you, Barry. You couldn't have seen my face."

Barry could tell his father was trying to convince himself as much as he was them. Henry had never been an open book emotionally, but he'd really closed himself off after Barry's mother had died. He struggled to do much more than tell his son he was proud of him, so admitting he was terrified, potentially even of himself, wasn't exactly the sort of thing he felt comfortable expressing. Barry knew that, and it made his own personal bias that much harder to ignore. He wanted his father to be innocent, but…

"Listen, I don't know what happened…what I saw, but…there's nothing we can do about it now. I have to go to work—"

"—And I'm coming," Henry demanded.

"No. No way," Max said.

"That's a positively idiotic idea," Elias said.

"No, I…I can watch after him," Barry said. He wanted to believe his father. There was no better way to find out if he was innocent than by giving him a bit of freedom.

"He's not the one in danger, Barry. Watch out _for_ him," Max urged.

Neither Barry nor Henry knew what to say in response. Both men looked to the ground, lost in thought. Elias opened his mouth to protest again, but the two Allens had already left the building, Henry in his son's arms.

…

Barry breathed a sigh of relief as he and his father entered the police station without the slightest conflict. The walk inside had driven him mad with paranoia, as he looked this way and that, afraid a cloaked speedster with his father's face would attack them both. Henry seemed to notice his anxiety, and offered him a gentle pat on the back in reassurance.

"It's going to be fine, son," Henry promised, before playfully adding, "I don't have a secret, evil twin brother who's stalked us to work. The Children don't know who you are."

Barry nodded, muttering, "No, you're…probably right." He then finished the thought in his head, _'But you can't have a secret twin you know about.'_

"What was that?"

Barry forced a smile, saying, "It's gonna be a heck of a day."

"You can say that again," Henry uttered as the Allen duo found themselves amidst a chaotic rush of police officers rivaled only by the previous night.

…

The Allens didn't know what they were getting themselves into. Although Henry, upon Barry's request, demanded he work in the bullpen, he spent much of the morning going over the case with his colleagues. Likewise, Barry processed more evidence in that morning than he had in all the (albeit few) days he'd worked for the CCPD. The grind would have continued into lunch, if not for a voice that broke Barry's concentration after he received his latest clue—a piece of unidentified fabric—from his supervisor, Forrest.

"Barry?"

The deep blue eyes of Patty Spivot came into focus just inches from Barry, as he realized he'd almost walked right into her. Blushing, he stepped back and onto another scientist's foot.

"Watch where you're going!" the scientist grumbled.

"Sorry," Barry muttered, blushing, before he looked back up at Patty. "Um, sorry, Patty. I—"

"Lunch?" Patty interrupted, before she too blushed and stammered, "I mean, do you want to get lunch with me? I know it's a crazy day, but…"

"I…" Barry looked over past the glass wall to the bullpen where his father was hard at work. If something happened… "I can't. I wish I could—I really do—but…like you said, it's a crazy day."

"You can take a lunch break," Patty pointed out.

"Right. No, I know. I just—I promised my dad I'd eat with him," Barry explained, only to realize the flaw in his fib.

"For the second day in a row?" Patty wondered.

"Yeah. It's…complicated," Barry admitted.

Patty frowned, not so much angry as disappointed. "I'm sorry if I'm not picking up on social cues, or…"

"No! No, I think you're great. I just…I'm sorry," Barry glanced away. "I have to get back to work."

With that said, Barry walked past her and would have continued to his cluttered workspace if he hadn't caught sight of two peculiar figures in his peripheral vision. In the bullpen, two red cloaked individuals had stopped before his father, the gust they created still blowing papers through the air. Barry's instincts kicked into overdrive, but he resisted the urge to speed to his father's aid. There was no reason to reveal his powers if he didn't have to.

Police officers had drawn their firearms before Barry could take more than a couple steps. He knew they couldn't stop the speedsters. The cops likely knew it, too. Barry couldn't hear what was going on, but it was clear the cloaked figures were ignoring them as they spoke to his father.

Suddenly, one of the cloaked figures sped behind Henry and whispered something in his ear. Just an instant later, before anyone could comprehend what was happening, the cloaked figures _and_ his father sped away, leaving behind a trail of golden energy.

Barry, speechless, stopped at the doorway and had to lean against it to keep from falling in shock. What the hell had just happened? His father had super speed. He'd lied to Barry…but Chester had run tests to prove he hadn't. Did he have a way of circumventing the tests, or was there something else going on…?

"Barry," Daniel noticed his shell-shocked state. "Barry!"

But the young scientist had already pushed his way to the door, almost in a trance-like state. Like in an out of body experience, Barry recognized his actions but had no control over them. He began to open the door, only for Daniel to pull him back.

"There's nothing you can do," Daniel said.

Barry was surprised to discover real empathy and concern in the man's eyes, but that wouldn't stop him. Unable to even muster an apologetic look, he pulled away from his colleague and ran out of the police station.

Daniel lost him as he ducked into an alley. Looking dazedly around, he was suddenly knocked to the ground by an enormous gust of wind. Daniel blinked twice at the golden trail that lingered for but a moment. He blinked once more as realization began to dawn on him. If one Allen could do impossible things…

…

Catching up to the speedsters took no more time than it would to dial a phone number not because their actions proved predictable, but, on the contrary, because they were looking for Barry. The instant they caught sight of his panicked golden trail, they sped down from their vantage point on a tower and encircled him. Recognizing his predicament, Barry, in costume, slowed to a halt in Atlas Park in the heart of Central City.

"Dad, talk to me! What the hell is going on?" Barry yelled, managing to quell his fear for the time being.

"Father?" Henry's voice boomed supernaturally. As his eerily gold-tinted eyes sparked with energy, he looked over at one of the hooded figures. "Time traveler, you did not speak of this man's son. He is the Flash?"

That caught Barry off guard. First off, a time traveler? That would explain how he knew his codename even though it wasn't exactly public knowledge, but still…

The cloaked man began to chuckle, and in one swift movement removed his hood. While he appeared middle-aged, his wild hair was completely white. As if motivated by a longtime dream come true, his ice-blue eyes twinkled ecstatically.

"Hm. It must have slipped my mind. How funny," the white-haired man, The Ghost, didn't even bother to hide his lie behind a poker face.

"Dad…" Barry began, although at this point he was certain his father wasn't in charge anymore.

"Dad's not home at the moment, Barry," The Ghost spoke his name like they were old friends…or perhaps something else entirely. "I'm afraid he's what people in certain circles like to call 'mind controlled'—an avatar of Savitar. Try saying that five times five times fast."

"What the hell did you do to him?" Barry growled.

Not-Henry began, "I awakened his true potential. Gave him a destiny greater than he could imagine. He will serve as my first host—the body of a god." As if realizing the dramatic irony, the weight of the situation, not-Henry—Savitar—looked down at his hands and clenched them into fists, smiling madly. "And it is by his hands that you will die."

The battle began in an instant. Savitar charged Barry, utterly unafraid. The two remaining speedsters jumped into action just behind him, drawing their knives. Some otherworldly force, a spark in his blood, forced Barry to sprint away from them.

They zigzagged down street after street. Past cars. Beside children. Through tunnels.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the golden ear pieces in Barry's suit, "And we're off to the races."

"Now's not the time, Chess," Max demanded. "Barry, we just saw the speeds you're clocking. What's going on?"

"There are three speedsters chasing after me. …My dad, it was him last night. He's—he's being mindcontrolled. They said he's the avatar of Savitar," Barry explained, jerking to the right.

"Say that five times five times fa—OW! Okay, I get it. No jokes," Chester grumbled.

"We're pulling up a live feed of the city right now…and it looks like you're beating them…by a lot," Max admitted.

Barry mustered the courage to look back. Max was right. The three speedsters had fallen further behind, now close to ten or so paces away.

"I'm faster than them," Barry whispered to himself, before continuing out loud. "Okay, what do I do?"

Silence on the other end of the line. After a few moments, he could hear whispering. Barry racked his mind for ideas while the others tried to come up with a plan. He needed to use his strengths to his advantage. He was obviously faster than them, but he was likely less experienced with super speed. On the other hand, he wasn't a rookie scientist, at least in terms of his education. Maybe he could use his knowledge to his advantage, but how?

'_Think…THINK!'_

An idea struck him like lightning.

"I've got it," Barry said. "The Ruby River. If I run fast enough over the water, the friction between the air waves I create and the surface of the river will start a chain reaction that'll create a tidal wave."

"You're going to drown the city?!" Elias exclaimed.

"We're not talking hurricane big. Just large enough to make the speedsters scatter, maybe even take out one of them," Barry explained.

"You'd have to evacuate the riverside," Gehenna noted.

"Yeah…" Barry creased his brow in determination. "I have to go faster."

He pushed himself to his limit, but it wasn't enough. The others were still too close to him. It might take an hour to create enough space between them to allow him the time to evacuate the riverside. In the meantime, one of the speedsters could easily separate from the group and cut him off, stopping his plan before it could start.

"Stop thinking," Max blurted.

"What?" Chess did the talking for Barry.

Max sighed and continued, "Everything that's happening…it's impossible. So stop trying to rationalize a plan. Just go for it. Thinking won't make you faster. Running will. So run, Barry—_run!_"

What did he have to lose? Barry closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He focused on the feeling of electricity in his veins, the energy coursing through his body. He felt no desire to run faster. He just did it.

Opening his eyes, Barry burst forward, creating a massive gust of wind that flipped cars and shattered windows. Despite the imminent danger and fear in his heart, he smiled. He couldn't help it. Not long ago, he couldn't even walk. Now…? Boy, could he run!

The other speedsters were already long gone. Barry sped his way to the river and moved each and every civilian to safety. His next step: finding the others again and drawing them toward him. It took him no time at all. They chased right after him, but never came close to making contact.

Barry raced away from them when they neared the river, allowing himself the time to instigate his plan. Arcing back and forth across the river's surface, Barry began to build up friction, eventually creating a tidal wave that soared toward the city.

He timed it perfectly. The other speedsters discovered him just seconds before the wave crashed against the river's edge. The still-cloaked figure sprinted off, while Savitar and The Ghost began to vibrate their molecules through the wave. Barry utilized the opening they provided and sped up to Savitar, grabbing him the instant he solidified. Before anyone else could react, Barry zoomed back into the city, his father's body in tow. He could hear Team STAR Labs—no, Team Flash cheer over the line.

"Unhand…me…Flash," Savitar growled, his clothes catching fire.

Barry had broken speeds his father's aura couldn't handle. Whatever energy powered them, Savitar had less of it.

"Some god you are. All bark, no bite," Barry quipped.

Aware he could very well kill his father, Barry elected to end this quickly. He slowed down and slammed Savitar into the ground outside of STAR Labs. Before the villain could react, he spun him around and pinned his arms together, as if he were arresting him.

"Let my father go," Barry demanded.

"Let him go? My return is prophesied, my victory assured. Your father's body is merely a temporary vessel, its connection to the Speed Force too weak to house my essence for more than an hour a day. Harm it. Kill it. Act as you please. I will still be reborn," Savitar roared.

That news came as a shock to Barry. Before he could truly process it, however, the demigod beneath him began to chuckle. He instantly knew what that meant. The other speedsters had caught up to them. The Ghost took the lead, murder in his eyes.

Barry picked up Savitar and sped toward STAR Labs as quickly as possible. The hole he'd created had since been covered by a makeshift wall of boards. Barry reluctantly broke through it. Wasting no time to consider the pain that caused him, he hurried into the main lab.

"They're coming," Barry shouted.

Before anyone else could respond, the two cloaked speedsters entered the room. The Ghost grinned wickedly as he raised his knife, slowing to a halt, surely about to gloat. The cloaked speedster…his hood had fallen down. Revealed for the first time, he glared at Barry, who was shocked to discover the man had red eyes. His shoulder-length dark hair was oily, and his skin an eerie shade of gray. Frankly, he looked dead.

Max, too, seemed shocked by the man's appearance, because he gasped.

"Jamie…?" he muttered.

The corpse-like speedster didn't so much as glance at Max, instead keeping his cold gaze on Barry and Savitar.

The Ghost looked over at the others with wide eyes, as if he'd—pardon the phrase—seen a ghost. "Who the hell are you? Where's Cisco Ramon? And Caitlin Snow?"

Max didn't hear The Ghost, his mind focused elsewhere. He couldn't tear his eyes off his brother. Barry looked between the two, piecing the whole situation together as best he could. At this point, nothing made sense. He just had to roll with the punches. Chess opened his mouth to respond to The Ghost, but Savitar finally spoke up.

"Silence, Ghost. Take that man," Savitar ordered, nodding toward Max. "He is the Chosen Son."

"What?!" Barry exclaimed, realizing what that meant. Savitar had said his father was his temporary host. That made Max the real deal.

Everything happened in an instant.

Nobody reacted as quickly as Jamie, The Fallen. Like a dog, he obeyed his master, kidnapping Max in the blink of an eye. The two were gone before the others knew what had happened.

The Ghost, meanwhile, did his best to recover from his apparent discovery. Something about the rest of the STAR Labs crew had profoundly disturbed him. Although he turned his focus back to Barry, he was still unbalanced, his mind a thousand miles away.

Barry tried to use this to his advantage. At super speed, he threw Savitar to the ground and charged The Ghost, ready to slug him. However, the speedster was more focused than he realized. The Ghost sidestepped his attack, pushed him away, and grinned.

"Maaa—" the start of Gehenna's cry reached the speedsters.

As Barry regained his balance, The Ghost said, "We found the Chosen Son. Do you know what that makes your father? Expendable."

He then zoomed over to Savitar, knife raised. Fearing the worst, the costumed hero kicked himself into overdrive and sped to the aid of his father. Before Barry could strike him, The Ghost swiveled around and extended his knife, causing him to run right into it. The blade pierced him in the gut—breaking right through his spine! Suddenly, a bolt of lightning crashed through the glass ceiling and straight into Barry. As if drawn like a magnet, the lightning oozed from his body to the knife in The Ghost's hand.

"—aax!" Gehenna finished, as the cloaked villain slowed down.

"So predictable. You're too scared of losing another parent to expect the obvious," The Ghost gloated, as Barry lingered on the knife, eyes wide in shock. He tore the blade from his body, leaned in, and whispered, "You're not a hero, Barry Allen. You're just a sad little boy who never got over his mother's death."

Helpless, Barry tumbled to the ground as the others finally registered what had happened. Savitar sped to his servant's side and grinned as he looked down at his fallen enemy. After taking a moment to bask in his victory, he faced The Ghost.

"You slayed The Demon. For this service, you will be granted Eternity," Savitar boomed.

Unable to tear his eyes off Barry, The Ghost feigned humility, saying, "Thank you, my lord."

Motioning to the severely injured hero, Savitar ordered, "Stay, and finish him. We shall reconvene in my church."

"NO!" Gehenna cried, but Savitar silenced her with a look.

"As you wish," The Ghost agreed.

With nothing left to say, Savitar sped away. Kneeling beside Barry, The Ghost was pleasantly surprised to discover fear in his eyes. Smirking, he finally allowed himself the opportunity to address his enemy again.

"Don't worry, Barry. I'm not finished with you yet. Your punishment's only just begun."

The Ghost ruffled Barry's hair, and, in an instant, zoomed away. Realizing they were in the clear, the others rushed over to their friend's side. Showing surprising compassion, Elias rested Barry's head on his lap.

He looked up at his two employees and demanded, "Gehenna, call an ambulance! Chester, bring me something to stop the bleeding!"

"I can't…I can't…" Barry's eyes swelled with tears.

"Barry, look at me, son. Talk to me," Elias said, holding his head so that he had to look him in the eyes.

"I can't feel my legs," Barry sobbed.

"What?"

"_I can't feel my legs."_


	9. Powerless

**A/N: I know this story's got more readers than just boysa and Heart. C'mon, guys, drop a review! You'd make my day! **

**Boysa boysa: I don't want to kill all the tension, but I'll outright admit that my take on Darwin Elias is not this story's version of the S1 Wells storyline. That would be far too unoriginal for my taste.**

**Heart of the Demons: The Ghost plays a minor but key role in this story. HOWEVER, he will come back to be a major player in my as-of-yet unannounced sequel to First Steps. So…I guess that's the official announcement. First Steps is getting a sequel!**

…

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 9: Powerless

Bright lights. Screaming. Something burning, something tight in his gut. Darkness.

He dreamt of nothing. He woke to a face he recognized—Gehenna's. He closed his eyes again.

Upon his third awakening, he noticed the lack of feeling below his waste. That could only mean one thing. His memories rushed back to him. His father._ Savitar_. Max. And the white-haired time traveler…the man who had stolen his powers.

"I need Sanders! Yes, you—now run! Prep the ER for surgery."

A new voice. He tried to focus his eyesight, but could only make out the faintest image of a dark-skinned face and uncharacteristic blue eyes. Panicked eyes.

The pain in his gut came to his attention again. It was overwhelming. Impossible to handle. He thrived on the impossible.

He tried to slow his breathing, to refrain from fainting again, but darkness was quickly overcoming his vision. He would not die. He refused to.

Not with his father and friend in danger.

'_I will run again.'_

Darkness welcomed him with a soft embrace.

…

Gehenna bit her lip. She pinched her skin. She did everything in her power to keep from falling asleep. Elias and Chess had wandered off to go get coffee for the three of them half an hour ago. How hard was it to find the cafeteria?

Guilt temporarily drowned out Gehenna's exhaustion. She knew it wasn't fair to judge herself for feeling tired, particularly after the last couple of days, but she couldn't help it. She hadn't thought about Barry since shortly after the two others had left. He was fighting for his life in the ER, and she couldn't stop wondering about that freaking cup of coffee. Then there was Max and Henry to worry about…my God, what was wrong with her?

Dr. Chapel, a proud woman and the surgeon in charge of saving Barry's life, emerged from the ER into the waiting room. Gehenna felt her throat tighten. This was the moment of truth.

"Ms. Hewitt?" Chapel said, her bright blue eyes locking with Gehenna's. "Barry's going to be fine."

Gehenna had always thought that the "weight of the world" saying was overdramatic, but in that moment she understood it for the first time. It was truly as if she had shed some enormous burden, like a grounded beast suddenly able to fly.

"Thank God," she mumbled through her hands, forcing back tears of relief.

"The bad news is it doesn't look like he'll ever be able to walk again," Dr. Chapel added.

That should have hit Gehenna harder than it did, but the unbridled joy of discovering her friend would live outmatched any negative emotions she felt tenfold.

"Thank you," Gehenna rose to hug the doctor. "Thank—"

Dr. Chapel stopped her before she could make contact. "I need to know, Ms. Hewitt: what exactly was Barry stabbed with?"

The question caught Gehenna off guard. Panicking, she stammered, "A, uh, a piece of glass. Jagged glass."

"Ain't no piece of jagged glass pulling that off," Chapel retorted. "My brother's in the CCPD. He's told me all about Bloody Monday and the metahumans responsible for it, including the weapons they use to kill people. Weapons with jagged blades. I'll be blunt: was Barry assaulted by one of those metas?"

Gehenna paused, her mouth hanging open, unsure of what to say. Chapel sighed, crossed her arms, and continued.

"Have you checked the news recently? A cop named Henry Allen is all over it; he's one of the murder suspects. It doesn't take a genius to piece together that he and Barry are related. Listen, I don't need to know how Barry's involved with this—this crisis, but as the woman who saved his life, I just want to know what the hell he's been stabbed with," Chapel explained.

Gehenna knew Chapel had cornered her. Moreover, she had proven herself by saving Barry's life.

After taking a deep breath, she admitted, "Yeah, it was one of the metas."

"Jesus. Practically took forceps to pull that out of you," Chapel muttered.

"You're welcome?" Gehenna grumbled back.

Chapel ignored the retort, saying, "Watch out for Barry. This metahuman business…it's serious. My brother just called me an hour ago. Men in Black-types have been brought in. We're talking not just FBI, but organizations we don't even know exist. Be careful, okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Gehenna was touched (and, admittedly, thrown off) by the woman's concern.

"Alright, I have to get back to work. You can stay with Barry, but don't expect him to wake up anytime soon. And he's gonna need a couple days' rest in here, at least," Chapel said.

"Thank you."

"Godspeed, Ms. Hewitt," Chapel wished, before motioning to a nurse to lead her to Barry's room.

…

Snart and Iris had both needed a break from the chaos of their lives. A lunch date provided just that. It was almost eerie that they could have a normal conversation and meal just a day after the city had turned upside down. In fact, the two had avoided the subject altogether until reality forced itself back into their lives…

"Shit, yeah, I'm on it," Iris spoke over the phone to her editor-in-chief. "Yeah…yeah, bye."

As she put down her phone, Snart wondered, "The fast and the furious?"

Iris smirked at his joke, and nodded. "I wasn't on the story, but my boss found out I know Barry—the guy you met—"

"Barry Allen. My neighbor, your friend," Snart said. "I remember him. He's a suspect?"

Iris' gaze fell, darkening. She stood up as she said, "No, but his dad is. Barry turned up in St. Joan's a couple hours ago, stabbed through the gut. I have to—"

"Go. I'll cover the check," Snart offered.

"Thank you," Iris pecked him on the cheek. "See you later."

"Bye, babe."

Iris rushed out of the restaurant, nearly running into a waiter in the process. Without apologizing, she sidestepped the man and left the building. Snart quietly chuckled to himself as he watched her go, and then motioned to the very same waiter she'd infuriated for the check.

So, Barry's father was a criminal. Poor kid. Snart could relate. At least one good thing had to come out of this. There was a decent chance the police weren't looking for Mick at the moment. Speaking of…

…

Snart returned to an empty apartment. Mick was long gone, and hadn't even bothered to leave a note. Cursing quietly to himself, Snart collapsed onto the couch. Something crunched beneath him.

"Son of a…"

He rose to his feet only to discover the battered remains of a Pop Tart scattered atop the couch and across his rear. Dusting himself off, he swore to teach Mick manners the next time he saw him.

Next time…next time, he'd win Mick back. Next time, he'd reunite the Rogues. If he could…

He was getting anxious. With Lisa gone, Snart felt like he was without a family. Iris was great, but she could never know the truth about him. He wanted to make it work between them. He really did, but part of him longed for something more exciting. More difficult. More dangerous. Something stability couldn't provide.

Next time…

…

Barry awoke to the sight of his friends—Gehenna, Chester, and even Elias—sitting beside his bed. Then came the rest of reality: his father, Max, his legs…

"Barry," Gehenna began, rushing to his side, as Chester put down his phone and Elias looked up.

"Don't. It's fine," Barry urged, "I mean, it's not fine, but…just don't."

He didn't feel like crying. He just felt numb. Gehenna noticed.

"Are you…I'm sorry—" she reached for his hand .

"_What the hell did I say?"_ Barry growled, and instantly regretted it. As Gehenna backed up to her chair, he said, "I'm sorry. I just…waking up, realizing I've lost my legs again, it should hurt more, it should feel like a dream, but it doesn't. Running…being the Flash, that was the dream. I always had a feeling it was going to slip away. Someday you have to wake up."

No one knew what to say to that. Chester opened his mouth to speak twice, but instantly closed it, doubting himself. Elias merely looked down at the floor, his arms crossed. To everybody in the room, this was their fault. They all wondered if there was something they could have done to prevent this whole situation.

Barry wanted to tell them he would be fine. That his dad and Max would be fine. He'd thrived on being an optimist even in the worst of times, but now…now he couldn't bring himself to lie to them. He couldn't guarantee a happy ending. He knew without any of them having to say it that he certainly wasn't going to get his happy ending. He was never going to walk again. That was probably for the better. He clearly couldn't make it as a hero.

Before anyone's thoughts could get too dreary, someone knocked on the door. Iris West peaked her head in and said, "Can I come in?"

The three STAR Labs employees looked at Barry. He nodded at Iris and beckoned them away.

"We'll give you two the room," Gehenna offered, leading the others out.

Barry smiled gently at her and nodded in thanks. When the door was shut, Iris took a moment to situate and steady herself. This would be their first serious conversation since Barry had moved back to Central City. The circumstances proved less than joyful. Iris felt a twang of guilt build up in her chest at the thought of her reason for being there.

"I'm the one who can't walk, but somehow you still look sadder than me," Barry halfheartedly teased.

Iris managed a weak smile. "I'm so sorry, Barry."

He looked away from her and willed himself not to cry. He'd managed to control himself up until this point, but something about Iris just made him want to break down. If he spoke, he knew he'd lose control. He did it anyway.

His voice cracking, Barry said, "You're here because of my dad, right? Because of the story?"

Iris began to shake her head, but stopped herself. She couldn't lie to him. "…yes. Not entirely. I _am_ here for you, too."

Barry's frustration with her, with this whole situation helped him quell his tears for a moment. He optioned not to speak immediately, afraid of what he might say.

Iris took the opportunity to jump in, "If you don't want to talk about your dad, Barry…just tell me. Tell me to go off the record."

"I don't want to talk about any of this," Barry admitted.

Forcing a smile, she said, "There. I'll tell my boss you weren't cooperative. Simple as that."

Barry smiled for a moment. It wasn't all that funny, and while he was pleased she wasn't pushing an interview on him, that wasn't why he'd smiled either. Iris was just being Iris. It felt right to Barry. Like home. Love—even stupid, immature, high school puppy love—could make you feel crazy things.

"Let's talk about you. Len—when did that start?" Barry wondered.

"Almost a year ago. Right after I started working for the Citizen, I'd been assigned this dog show fluff piece, and, as crazy as this sounds, it turned out the whole thing was tied to a puppy mill crime ring," Iris explained, causing Barry to laugh. She chuckled for a moment herself, and continued, "Len …he grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. Hangs out in southeastern a lot. All of his friends are there, and he…I don't know, we just stumbled across one another in a bar, one thing led to another and I told him about the story. He offered to point me in the right direction if I'd go on a date with him. Normally I wouldn't do that sort of thing, but he just seemed so…nice. Genuine. He's an engineer," she added with a playful smirk.

"Y'know what they say about big brains," Barry joked.

Iris laughed. "I don't—I don't think that's a thing."

"You tell me. You were always into nerds," Barry said, managing to resist adding any bitterness to his voice. Iris had dated a lot of really smart people in all the time he'd known her. Just never him. To be fair, he hadn't really ever pushed the subject…or even brought it up to her.

"Touché. Regardless of size," Iris continued, still laughing, "We hit it off. Len was just so…honest. And confident. He isn't ashamed of who he is. He's…I don't know. I feel like a lot of the guys I've dated never really liked themselves. They could be gorgeous, and just wicked smart, but they were never…content. They always felt like they had something to prove, even to me. Especially to me. Len's not like that."

That stung. Not because Iris had purposely insulted Barry, or because she'd said it in a particularly mean way. It stung because Barry knew that was his problem. He'd never felt like he could live up to the mythic Iris West. Why would she want to date a cripple? A geek? The sort of guy who stumbled over his words as often as his legs? Throughout college, he'd struggled to mature past this notion, but there were some things he just couldn't shake, even now.

"What about you?" Iris perked up. "You have anyone special in your life?"

Barry considered bringing up Patty, but it didn't feel right. He shook his head, saying, "No. I haven't really had the time to pursue…anything yet. Even in college, I worked myself to death. I dated a few girls, but nothing ever lasted more than a couple months."

Iris thought for a moment, and then said, "Maybe it's not the right time to say this, but you've always worked yourself too hard, Barry. You have to slow down every once in a while. You're a nice guy. You're smart, you've got a steady job, and you're cute—in a nerdy way." Barry blushed, glancing away. "Girls are going to love you…you just have to give them a chance to."

Barry rolled his eyes, trying to play it off. "Slowing down isn't going to be a problem now…"

He immediately realized what he'd said, and choked on his words. Iris looked at the ground, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Barry. I didn't mean—"

"—No! No, it's fine. I wasn't…it came out wrong," Barry interrupted.

Silence fell over them. Barry gripped his sheets fiercely, his knuckles turning white with strain. He couldn't even handle a conversation. How the hell did he expect to be anyone's hero?

Iris was the first to speak, noticing his turmoil. "Barry, do you remember my terrier, Ariel?"

Barry nodded, aware of where this was going. "Yeah."

"So you have to remember how she got lost back in…what was it? Seventh grade? Eighth?"

"Seventh," Barry admitted.

Iris smiled slightly and continued, "She ran away—managed to dig right under our fence in the middle of the night. My dad and I looked for her for hours, but we couldn't find her. I showed up to school that day a total mess, tears everywhere, my makeup smeared. Ariel was everything to me, and she could have been gone forever."

"Word got around. To this day, I don't know how. It was a big ass school, but somehow you still found out. The first thing you did was find me and tell me—"

"'Don't worry. I swear I'll find Ariel. Scout's honor,'" Barry reminisced.

"That was always the funniest thing to me, even then, because you were never a boy scout," Iris admitted, laughing quietly. "But you were so convinced you were going to find Ariel. You were so stubborn. I told you not to worry about it. Frankly, I was scared you'd get yourself hurt, but you did it. You showed up on my doorstep later that evening—you and your dad—and you had Ariel. You'd found her."

Barry shook his head. "It was my dad who did it, actually. We were driving around town, and he was the one that spotted her. I didn't even—"

"Your dad wouldn't have seen her if you hadn't put him on the case. Who knows? Maybe no one would have found her. I don't know if you've heard, but there are these evil puppy mill crime rings out there—" Barry couldn't help it. He broke down laughing, and Iris failed to stop herself from joining in as she finished, "It's a serious—serious problem, Barry. Stop laughing."

They enjoyed the moment together, allowing it to linger. They'd always been friends. They were never super close—likely because Henry wanted to keep his work life with Joe separate from his home life with Barry—but they'd still spent a lot of time together. They went to the same schools, sometimes took the same classes. Once or twice, they'd even opened up to one another about something going wrong in their lives. But now…now it was like they were the oldest and the very best of friends. Their history came crashing down like waves on a beach, and they realized what they'd been missing out on all these years.

Their laughter coming to an end, Iris took a moment, sharing Barry's gaze. She stood up, walked over to him, and kneeled at his bedside. Barry blushed, expecting—no, hoping for something he knew wouldn't happen.

Iris took his hand and smiled. "You've always been too hard on yourself. You put the weight of the world on your shoulders and blame yourself when it's too heavy for you to bear alone. Whatever happened, whatever you're going through, Barry, you don't have to go through it alone. And you will still always be a hero—_my_ hero—regardless of who helped you along the way."

Tears welled up in Barry's eyes. Tears of guilt, of anger, of relief, of grief, and of joy. He felt a thousand things at once and had to look away from Iris because he was embarrassed. Like their history together, Barry's past came crashing down upon him at once, and he suddenly felt both relieved to know he wasn't alone and also upset that he couldn't save everyone. That he couldn't even save himself.

Iris held his hand while he cried. She didn't say anything. She knew better than that. Instead, she simply ran her thumb over his hand reassuringly, and stayed by his side until he could cry no longer.

Sniffling, Barry managed, "Thank you."

"Of course," Iris softly replied. Standing up, she continued, "I'm sure your friends want to see you. I…I'll be back later tonight, okay?"

Barry nodded. "OK."

He tried to muster the strength to say more, to open up, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt wrong just thinking about it.

"Call me if you need anything," Iris added, squeezing his hand one last time before letting go.

"Yeah, of course," he agreed.

"Bye, Barry."

"Bye."

Iris stopped briefly at the door to look back at him. He didn't meet her gaze, instead staring down at his sheets. She left before she could stop herself.

'_I'll be back,'_ Iris reminded herself.

As soon as she had left, Gehenna, Chester, and Elias hurried into the room. Meanwhile, thunder had caught Barry's attention. He'd begun to stare at the storm outside, and lost himself in it. Rain pattered against the floor as the wind howled.

"How'd it go?" Gehenna wondered.

Simultaneously, Chess said, "Dude, who the heck is she? Are all your friends Victoria's Secret models? –OW!" He exclaimed after Gehenna smacked his arm. "What? I was complimenting you, too."

"Really?" Gehenna wondered, admittedly flattered.

"Yes, really, but after that I'm—"

"Guys," Barry blurted.

"Shut up," Elias finished, staring at the exact same spot as Barry: the window.

Or rather, the open window. On it was perched two figures, both of whom were suddenly illuminated by lightning. The first wore a black cowl and cape, and dark gray armor that was emboldened by the image of a bat on his chest. The second figure had donned a colorful red, green, and yellow costume topped off by a domino mask that covered his eyes. Everyone in the room knew their names.

Chess said, "Holy crimefighting duo: Batman—"

"—and Robin," Barry uttered. "You're actually real."

"'Holy crimefighting duo, Batman?'" the Boy Wonder whispered to himself, smirking. "Heh. Cute."

"Barry Allen," boomed the Dark Knight Detective. "We need to talk."

Before anything else could be said, Elias's eyes rolled up into his head and he promptly fainted.


	10. A Dark Knight in Central City

**A/N: Yep, Batman and Robin are guest starring in this title. Hope you enjoyed that little surprise cliffhanger! Also, please review! You'll make my day. **

**Heart of the Demons: Thanks, as always, for reviewing!**

**Boysa boysa: B+R play a pretty key role in this issue, as you'll see. Enjoy!**

…

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 10: A Dark Knight in Central City

"_Barry Allen, we need to talk."_

Barry had believed in urban legends, mythic figures, and wacky superstitions his entire life, but actually coming face to face with one was a far more bizarre experience than he could have imagined. There stood Batman and Robin in the flesh. Even the younger caped crusader seemed like some larger than life hero out of Barry's daydreams. They were everything he wanted to be. Not just celebrities or superheroes, but symbols.

So, naturally, all he could stammer out was, "You, uh, you want to talk to me?"

"Hey, yo, is the Uncanny Unconscious Man okay?" Robin wondered, looking around the bed at Elias' motionless form on the ground. The scientist let out a weak moan.

"Yeah, he's just melodramatic," Gehenna mumbled, unable to take her eyes off of Batman.

"We don't have time for pleasantries. The nurse will arrive in less than three minutes to check on you, Barry. We need to leave _now_," Batman demanded like a drill sergeant.

"Why…?" Barry uttered, although he could guess.

"The big ol' broodster wants to get you your powers back," Robin explained, before adding, "Team Flash is welcome to tag along of course."

Chester began, "'Team Flash…?' That's exactly what I call—"

"I can't," Barry blurted. "I'm still recovering. I—I'm also not—"

"You're the hero Central City needs right now, so act like it," Batman growled.

"Come on, speedster." Robin stepped up onto the ledge and slowly allowed himself to fall backwards like a trapeze artist. "Take a leap of faith."

With that, Robin disappeared from the window, falling to the ground below. Before anyone could react, the Boy Wonder rose back into view on what appeared to be thin air. Slowly, a black jet decamouflaged beneath him, hovering silently in place.

Chester's jaw dropped. "Dope."

Batman extended his hand to Barry, "It's now or never."

Barry hesitated for a moment, then took his hand. Batman quickly unplugged him from the hospital equipment, slung him up and carried him like a newlywed bride to the jet. As the top opened up to reveal five seats, Robin looked back at the others.

"You coming?" the Boy Wonder called.

"Oh, hell yes!" Chester grinned and ran to the window's edge.

"But Dr. Elias—" Gehenna protested.

"Leave him. He'll be fine," Chester pointed out as Robin helped him into a seat.

Gehenna paused for a moment, then shrugged. She quickly took a moment to plop a pillow beneath Elias' head, then hurried over to the window.

"After you, beautiful," Robin offered his hand. Gehenna smiled, and took it, stepping into the plane.

Within moments, they had all settled down and Batman kicked the jet into (silent) overdrive, sending them hurtling through the air. Chester whooped. Robin laughed. Barry just couldn't shake one question from his mind.

"So, how'd you know about us…about me?" Barry wondered.

Batman shot him a look through the rearview mirror that spoke volumes.

"Right…" Barry nodded, understanding the unspoken implication.

Chester pumped his fist into the air. "LET'S GO! SUPERHERO TEAM UP, BABY!"

…

Batman landed the camouflaged jet somewhat unsurprisingly in the small airfield behind STAR Labs as the storm roared overhead. While Barry had hoped to see the hero's regional headquarters, it was likely a bit naïve to assume he had bases everywhere, but he went ahead and asked about it anyway.

"Don't you have like a Batcave somewhere in the city?" Barry asked.

Batman hoisted him up and hopped out of the plane. All he offered in response was a grunt.

"Batman's a kiss, don't tell type of guy," Robin said, helping the others out of the jet before grabbing a decent-sized contraption from the back. "His secrets have secrets."

Hopping down, he pulled on the sides of the device, creating a black wheelchair.

"A Bat-wheelchair?!" Chester exclaimed as Batman gently set Barry down in it. "What else have you got in there?"

"Shark repellant," Batman dryly said, before marching off, allowing Barry to roll himself forward.

"Was he—was that a joke?" Chester stammered.

Robin cackled and continued after his mentor, leaving Chester to yell after him, "Hey! Don't stop talking now! Do you guys actually have shark repellant? Is that even a thing?"

…

As the group settled inside the main lab, Gehenna had to answer a call from Elias. She explained away the situation and convinced the man to slow down the hospital staff while they figured out what to do next. Praying he could weasel his way out of this, Gehenna hung up, just as Batman plugged a flash drive into the computer system.

"Savitar, as you may be aware, is the name of the Hindu god of motion," Batman began, drawing their attention. Two images popped up onto the monitor near the back of the room: one of an Indian icon and another of a cave painting. The figures in both appeared to be men, but otherwise looked completely different. While the Indian icon featured a gaudily dressed figure on a chariot of snow white horses, the cave painting boasted a lean, silver armored man, who had lightning tracing behind him.

"As the story goes, Columbus and the early European colonists mistook the Americas for India, and the natives for Indians. That included their beliefs. While the gods and spirits of many of the tribes didn't outright affect the colonists early on, by the mid-1500s some settlers had moved further into what is now known as the American Mid-West and encountered a being they called—"

"—Savitar," Barry finished, staring intently at the image of the armored man.

"Correct," Batman agreed, clicking to the next slide: a Spanish painting of the armored figure slaying Conquistadors.

Chester leaned over to Robin and whispered, "I love the Bat-slideshow," causing the Boy Wonder to chuckle.

"For decades, Savitar halted colonial progress and ruled over many of the Midwestern Native American tribes as their god. A unifier of disparate people. Even some of the settlers began to worship him." Next slide, a cave painting of Savitar racing with a red figure whose chest was emblazoned with a yellow lightning bolt. Barry frowned, trying to comprehend the image as Batman continued.

"Until one day, a so-called Demon emerged, the only being to ever match Savitar's speed. They fought and disappeared together, but not before Savitar left his people a prophecy. The day would come when The Demon would reemerge and they would use its Lightning to revive him within the body of The Chosen Son. This task would be accomplished by three of his followers—The Ghost, The Fallen, and The Distant Son. Having returned, Savitar swore to raze the kingdom of the 'heretics' who had fought him, and upon its ashes build a new civilization."

"And now his prophecy is coming true," Gehenna said.

"But how…?" Barry rolled over to the screen and pointed at the red figure. "Is that me?"

"That's my guess," Robin piped up, "Honestly, it's impossible to know. Maybe there was another speedster. Maybe it's just a coincidence. Maybe it's Fate."

"There's no such thing as Fate," Batman stated. "Regardless, now that you understand the situation, now that you know what you're up against, we need to focus on recreating the accident that gave you your powers. You're the only one fast enough to stop Savitar."

"We can't. The Blackout Generator's been destroyed—" Barry began, only to be interrupted by Chester.

"That's not what they're saying," Chester said, as realization dawned on him. "I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but you've probably looked at all the data we've logged on Barry. His power…it came from somewhere else. Like, pretty far away."

"What?" Barry muttered.

"It's only a theory, but it's the best we've come up with," Gehenna added, supporting Chester with a nod.

The young man continued, "We think your power source is the same as the Blackout Generator's: the space between universes. A whole other dimension of pure motion and energy. As I like to call it…the Speed Force."

Barry remained silent, allowing everything that had just been said to sink in. His powers came from another dimension? This was like every wacky sci fi story Barry had adored as a child, but in that moment it just felt overwhelming.

Robin took this chance to chime in, "Ever heard of Hawking's Black Hole Theory?"

Barry looked up and nodded. "He hypothesized that black holes are the gateways between universes."

"So if you get caught in one…" Robin began.

Chester finished, "You'll have access to the Speed Force for a split second. Hence the Blackout Generator's name. Elias believed he'd created a gateway much like a black hole to the Speed Force, and I…I took it one step further. I outright built a machine that creates mini-black holes. It's called the Chunk…don't ask."

"So…what? You want me to get struck by lightning and knocked into a black hole?" Barry said incredulously.

"Precisely," Batman said.

"On the off chance that you open up the roof and I am struck by lightning, assuming the black hole doesn't just kill me, and that I actually get my powers back, I'll end up in another universe! I could pop up anywhere—in the middle of space, for instance," Barry pointed out, the fear inside him morphing into anger.

"Dr. Elias believes you can actually boomerang out of a black hole," Gehenna admitted.

"You'll have to focus on the frequency of our universe. Think of one thing, and one thing only, and use that as an anchor to pull yourself back. Your powers should allow you to react fast enough that you'll be able to return here," Batman explained.

"Last time this happened, I was in a coma for three months," Barry pointed out.

Chester sighed, and nodded, "These would be different circumstances but…you're right. I don't want to say it's impossible, but—"

"It's impossible," Barry muttered, placing his head in his hands.

Chester shrugged. "I was gonna say 'extremely improbable' to avoid that whole cliché, but yeah, rounding down it's impossible."

"I can't—I'm sorry; I can't do this," Barry said, rolling away.

Nobody bothered to say anything for a moment. Gehenna, Chess, and Robin watched him go, concerned. Batman just stared on, his emotions masked beneath his cowl.

Finally, the Dark Knight spoke up, "I'll be right back."

…

Barry had stopped just around the corner outside the lab, taking a moment to process everything. He couldn't do what they wanted. He hadn't been smart enough or fast enough to save his father and Max back when he had powers. He didn't have it within him to be a hero, no matter what Iris said, no matter what he wanted to believe. He wasn't Batman. He wasn't the real Flash. Barry was just a boy. A boy who couldn't run.

"Is it your mother?" Batman's voice came out of nowhere, frightening Barry.

He nearly fell out of his chair in shock, as the Dark Knight circled around to face him.

"How do you…of course you know. Never mind," Barry said, shaking his head.

"My parents were murdered in front of me when I was a boy. I became the Batman to prevent what happened to them from happening to anyone else," Batman began.

"You've done a hell of a job. No one ever gets killed in Gotham City," Barry blurted, and instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Batman interrupted him, "You're right. I have failed my city…many times, just as you will if you choose to go down my path. But that doesn't mean either of us should stop fighting. My crusade is not endless. There will come a time when Gotham and its citizens are safe, when they won't have to worry about what awaits them around every corner. Until then…I rage."

"I'm not like you," Barry said, shaking his head. "My mother's murder…it motivated me for a while. It steered me towards a life in forensics, but that isn't why I still do it."

"Then why do you?"

Barry paused, allowing the silence to sink in. "I guess…it just feels right. Knowing I can help in some way to get justice for those who can't get it themselves. But that's not…it's not enough. Not for what you're asking of me."

"Isn't it?" Batman began. "Your drive stems from a place of kindness. Compassion. Hope. I was motivated by anger, fear, and revenge. You have something within you that took me years to discover. A strength I only found in my darkest moment. Use it. Stop holding yourself back, and _fight_."

Barry didn't know what to say. Why the hell did so many people believe in _him_? How could he…?

"Central City needs you, Barry. Your friends need you. Your father needs you," Batman paused, then finished. "You have an opportunity I never had: to save your father. Another day with him…that alone is worth any risk."

Barry did not respond, lost in thought. Realizing he'd done all he could, Batman frowned and returned to the lab. However, before the door could close after him, Barry came zooming down the hall. Chester and Gehenna stopped working on the ring-shaped Chunk at the sight of him. Robin perked up, curious.

Emerging from the darkness of the doorway, Barry said, "I'm ready."

So quickly that it came and went without anyone noticing, a smile flickered over Batman's lips.

…

Thunder boomed overhead as cloaked figures made their way into the church transept. They whispered excitedly to one another, making promises and dreaming of wishes their god would grant them. The head priest emerged from the back of the poorly lit room, followed closely behind by The Ghost and The Fallen, Max and Henry's limp, shirtless bodies held between them. Instantly, silence fell over the church, as the two unconscious men were laid side by side atop an enormous bronze bench emblazoned with an icon of Savitar.

"Our preparation is complete. The Distant Son has renewed his strength, The Demon has been slayed, The Chosen is present," the head priest indicated Max, "And our lord cries out to us from the sky, his return assured!"

The many cloaked worshippers cheered as loudly as the thunder.

"Tonight we welcome a new age. One in which Savitar will take back what is rightfully his, and unleash our wrath upon those who have wronged us! Our time is NOW!"

The Ghost chuckled to himself as the crowd erupted again. The head priest took a moment to bask in the glory, and then extended her hand toward the white-haired man. The Ghost reached into his clothing and produced his lightning-shaped knife. Wasting not a moment more, the priest raised the blade.

"Emerge, our lord, from the heart of the Distant Son!"

She plunged the knife into Henry's chest. Instantly, lightning tore through the open ceiling and into the wounded man. His eyes shot open, glowing with azure light, just as the lightning recolored itself to match it and soared into the blade. The priest then ripped the knife from Henry's chest, only for it to emerge bloodless and unmarked. In fact, Henry's chest wasn't so much as scratched, although the man had since fainted from fatigue.

"And return to us in the flesh of your kind—within the body of the Chosen Son!" The priest finished.

The priest carved a lightning bolt into Max's chest. The second it was complete, blue lightning zoomed down from the sky and enveloped Max in its light. When, after a few moments, it faded, a man stood before the crowd. While most of his appearance remained the same, Max's cold, stark blue eyes and the newfound scar on his chest that pulsed with energy betrayed the truth. This was Savitar in the flesh.

Nobody spoke as Savitar examined his new body. His lips remained locked in a frown.

"Thin, but strong. This will do," Savitar paused, then added, "Only it's missing something…"

His lips slowly creased into a smile as lean silver plating formed over most of his body, leaving but his mouth, eyes, and scarred chest uncovered. Two winged tips developed over his ears, providing a look not unlike the Flash's.

Recognizing his pleasure, The Ghost took advantage of this moment to step forward. "I'm pleased to see your return, my lord. I only wish to remind you of our agreement—"

"Your powers can wait!" Savitar boomed, although The Ghost didn't so much as flinch. "I have waited nearly four hundred years for this day to come. We will spend it as I wish."

"By reconquering America?" The Ghost glumly noted.

"By avenging your Children?" the priest prayed.

"No," Savitar turned to the crowd before him and pumped his fists into the air. "Tonight we feast! Tonight we drink! Tonight—we celebrate!"

The Children of the Lightning lost their minds, erupting into a chant of "Savitar." Only the two cloaked figures remained quiet. The Fallen retained his death-like stare, and The Ghost massaged his temples.

Shaking his head, The Ghost muttered, "The great speed god Savitar…wants to party?"

…

Lightning flashed overhead as Gehenna prepared to open up the domed ceiling. Chester scurried this way and that, while he and Batman made final adjustments to the Chunk. Meanwhile, Robin helped keep Barry's wound closed, and provided some basic moral support as the blond sat strapped to a lightning rod in the heart of the projector.

"You're not gonna die. The good guys always win," Robin promised.

"Right…" Barry mumbled, gazing up at the storm.

"It's morphin' time, people," Chester said, standing up straight, the Chunk switch in hand. Barry looked blankly at him. "Bad time for a reference? My B."

"Tell me when, Chess," Gehenna called from the side.

"Your call, Barry," Chester offered.

Barry took a deep breath, steadying himself, then said, "On three…two…"

"Good luck…_Flash_," Batman said, as he and Robin stepped back.

Barry shot him a timid smile. "One."

"It's showtime," Chester declared.

Gehenna triggered the glass roof, which opened up. Chester then flicked a switch to his right.

"Super lightning rod, warming up," he said.

The pole behind Barry suddenly hummed with energy. He closed his eyes, his breathing becoming more erratic. The wound in his side ached like there was no tomorrow. Hell, maybe there wouldn't be…not for him.

"Lightning in five, four—"

Batman interrupted Chester by triggering the other switch without warning. Out of time and in shock, Chester had to turn on the Chunk as well.

It happened faster than you could blink. Lightning raced down to Barry, striking him just before the Chunk activated. Barry then felt himself being pulled inward, as if he were imploding. However, a newfound energy coursed through his veins, distracting him before he could focus on the black hole for too long. Innumerable images flashed before his eyes.

Barry locked onto one: his mother. Not her corpse, or the bittersweet pictures she left behind. No, Barry focused on the way she would hold him up as a child, as he'd swing his legs awkwardly forward, trying to achieve some semblance of walking. He thought only of the love he felt for her, and the love she gave to him even now. A feeling so powerful, so eternal that it overcame everything else.

Liberated, Barry stepped forward.

The others hadn't even had time to process what had happened. One instant, Barry was gone. The next, he _stood_ before them. Slowly, everyone smiled, including Batman.

"Ho. Ly. Shit," Chester muttered.

Barry offered a quick smile, and then zoomed out of the room. In a split second, he returned, dressed in his costume.

"No time to waste," The Flash looked over at the Dynamic Duo. "You two ready for a superhero teamup?"

Batman remained contemplative for a second, but nonetheless shook his head, much to Robin's chagrin. "We have a situation back in Gotham. Ordinarily we would have remained in the city in the first place, but—"

"He knew you needed help. A little kick in the behind to get you going," Robin finished.

Batman merely grunted in response.

The Flash paused for a moment, and then nodded, smiling, "Thank you. I don't know if I could have done this without you."

"In the words of Diana Ross, believe in yourself, Barry," Robin said, before stepping back. "Anyway, it's been real. It's been fun. And screw it, it's been real fun."

"Next time, we're coming to Gotham!" Chester said.

"Thank you, both of you," Gehenna said.

Before Batman could leave, The Flash stopped him and extended his hand to be shaken. The Dark Knight took it in kind, his grip like a vice, causing Flash to wince in pain.

"Any more advice you can spare for a rookie?" Flash wondered.

"Vamanos, boss man! Gotham awaits!" Robin called from the back of the room.

Flash could have sworn that he saw Batman roll his eyes beneath his lenses. However, the Dark Knight made no mention of it, and offered only a simple deadpan:

"Never get a sidekick."

And with that, the Dynamic Duo left STAR Labs and the lives of Team Flash…for now.

…

The church of Savitar had been transformed into a rave. The thunder boomed to the beat of the music, as the Children of the Lightning ate, drank, and partied below.

"This Big Belly Burger...I like it!" Savitar cheered, munching down on the aforementioned delicacy. He tossed back another beer and burped.

"I'm so glad—" the head priest was interrupted by another of her god's belches, "To hear that, my lord. There's more where that came from."

"There certainly is!" Savitar burped again, causing a few of his followers to chant his name. The god of speed patted The Ghost on the back, demanding, "Time traveler, fetch me another—"

Before the command could be bellowed, lightning arced overhead and the Flash emerged in the doorway, immediately silencing the room.

"You…you're alive?" Savitar wondered as he rose to his feet, glancing venomously at The Ghost, who shrugged, before returning his gaze to the Scarlet Speedster.

"And better than ever," The Flash said, "You're looking pretty good for a five-hundred-year-old man. Question is: are you still fast enough to catch me?"

Savitar grimaced as energy began to course from the scar on his chest. The Flash's eyes lit up with golden electricity. In the blink of an eye, the two were off, leaving behind nothing but an enormous gust of wind.

The race had begun.


	11. Flashback

**A/N: Big thanks to boysa boysa and Hearts of the Demons, who have been consistent reviewers since the title's return! You guys rock! Seriously, I can't stress how much your continued support inspires me.**

**Heart of the Demons: Glad Batman and Robin had the desired effect. It was so much fun getting to include them in the story!**

**Boysa boysa: This volume will be 12 issues, so we're on the penultimate one. Shocker, I know. These final two issues are quite dense. As for Cold, his story takes center stage in the next volume. In regards to the length of each volume, they won't all be 12 issues. Volume 2 will be closer to 10. 3 should make it to 12, however, and the 4****th**** and final volume will be roughly 7 or 8 issues. **

…

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 11: Flashback

Describing the Flash and Savitar's second encounter as frantic would be a criminal understatement. For the still-green speedster, this was the first time he'd truly met his match. The Flash had to zig zag down the streets of Central City like a drunk driver to avoid being caught by the god of speed. Savitar was faster than before, and for good reason…

"My powers are mine, and mine alone, Flash! The Ghost, The Fallen—they wield my gifts no longer! You will not outrace me this time!" Savitar roared.

"Chess, I've drawn a bad hand here! Ideas?" The Flash spoke into his comms as he zoomed up a building in downtown Central City, shattering its windows.

Savitar maneuvered around each individual glass piece and continued up after his opponent.

"Uh…run, Barry, run!" Chester stammered.

"CHESTER!" Flash exclaimed, reaching the edge of the roof.

Gulping, he quite literally took a leap of faith, jumping across to another building. Savitar followed his example.

"Sorry, that's what Max said last time. I—I thought it would help. God, I am not one for pep talks. Just, uh, think of lightning, and, y'know, go faster," Chester offered.

"That's not how the Speed Force works!" Flash replied.

The two speedsters raced down the building and ran in a circle around it. Savitar inched ever closer to the Flash.

"What the hell did you do last time?" Chester wondered, panicked.

"I—I don't know. Chess, I have limits—"

"Do you?" Chester interrupted. "I mean, every single time you thought you'd reached your limit, you proved yourself wrong. Why is this time any different?"

The Flash didn't respond. Maybe Chester was right. This entire time, the only thing that had really been holding him back…was himself. If nothing else, he could at least outsmart the speed god.

The Flash sped up the side of another building just as a news helicopter came into view. A lightbulb going off in his head, he urged himself to go faster, blocked out doubt to the best of his ability, and neared the edge of the roof.

"This again?" Savitar chastised.

The Flash jumped—and latched onto the helicopter's rotor! He twisted his body to avoid the tail of the vehicle, and then, using its momentum, he flung himself around in a 180 degree arc. Savitar could do nothing but widen his eyes in shock as the Scarlet Speedster intercepted him mid-jump and sent him flying with a powerful kick.

"BOOM, BABY!" Chester cheered. "That's how it's done!"

Savitar tumbled across the roof, but recovered before the Flash could reach him. The two slid to a temporary stop.

"Well played, Flash. I will not underestimate you again," Savitar swore.

His confidence returned, the Flash motioned him on, "Bring it."

The two took off, and this time the race was more evenhanded. They exchanged blows, taking turns chasing after one other. Street after street, the speedsters neared the Ruby Bridge. Now playing the role of the mouse, the Flash ran toward it and zoomed around to its underbelly. The race continued upside down beneath the many dozens of cars above the speedsters.

Reporters in a distant news chopper did their best to get a shot of the Flash and Savitar.

The on-camera reporter continued, "—and it looks as if the two metahumans are crossing the Ruby Bridge to—"

…

"—Keystone City!—"

In The Hole, Central City's foremost criminal bar, Mick Rory watched the news with his hood up, taking another swig of whiskey. Every patron had their eyes glued to the television. Nobody spoke.

"—I can't believe I'm saying this, but—"

…

"—It looks like they might be picking up speed!—"

Iris West, standing beside Dr. Chapel and a nurse in what once was Barry's hospital room, crossed her arms and repeated, "Dr. Elias, what the hell happened to Barry Allen? Are you even listening—"

Elias waved her down, and pointed in the direction of the television screen. Iris and the hospital staff finally bothered to follow his awe-filled gaze, and mirrored his expression at the sight before them. The Flash and Savitar had just crossed into Keystone City, visible as nothing but trails of light.

"—Still no update as to the identities of these metahumans and what their motives could be. The CCPD have reported that they believe—"

…

"—these so-called 'speedsters' could be connected in some way to Bloody Monday—"

Wally leaned forward on the living room couch, his mouth half-filled with a granola bar. The reflection of the TV screen—and with it the race—flickered across his eyes.

"C'mawn, Bawwy, you gawt this," he whispered through his snack.

"—and we—we have now lost sight of the metahumans! I repeat—"

…

"—We have lost sight of the metas!"

"AW C'MON!" complained one of the Children of the Lightning, who stood in the church surrounded by his fellow cultists, watching the news on his tablet.

Elsewhere in the room, the others, including The Ghost, had huddled around their mobile devices, keeping track of the race. Meanwhile, The Fallen gazed up at the stormy night sky. Lightning flashed across his blank eyes.

Near the back of the room, a single cloaked figure snuck up to Henry's unconscious form and began to shake him.

"Henry," Gehenna whispered urgently, "Henry!"

The older man stirred, blinking the haze out of his vision. "You…"

"Gehenna Hewitt. I'm with Team Flash—I mean—"

"You're with my son," Henry remembered.

Gehenna nodded. "Keep quiet." She motioned to the cultists around them. "Dial the police. Let them trace your call. We'll sneak out, but you have to leave your phone," Gehenna urged.

Henry nodded and reached into his pocket. He went straight to his favorites and dialed Joe West's number.

That's when The Ghost finally bothered to check on their captive. Recognizing Gehenna beneath the hood, he screamed, "STOP THEM!"

"Run!" Gehenna screamed, helping Henry off the table.

It took the Children of the Lightning a moment to realize what was going on, particularly since a number of them were more than a little buzzed. Soon enough, however, they all began to cry out and surge toward Gehenna and Henry, who tried to escape through the back door.

Meanwhile, The Fallen continued to stare at the sky. It was only after the lightning blade-wielding priestess called to him, "Fallen! The police officer!" that he acted.

Gehenna had to support Henry, who still felt feeble, through the back door. However, before they could make it far outside, the first of the Children caught up to them. Reacting instinctively, Gehenna let go of Henry and grabbed the arm of the first cultist who reached for her. She then threw him over her shoulder onto the ground, stepped atop his back, and dislocated his shoulder with a vicious twist of his arm. That initial attack made the other Children hesitate, stepping back.

"What the hell…?" Henry wondered, breathing heavily as he put up his dukes.

"I'm ex-military," Gehenna explained it away like it was nothing. "Marine Corps."

"GET THEM!" The priestess ordered, motivating the Children to attack before Henry could respond.

The fight was chaos. Drunken cultists tripped over each other to get to the escapees. Gehenna dealt with one after another, breaking limbs and using the inexperienced fighters against one another. She even managed to duck under one man's punch, causing him to break his comrade's nose. Nailing the first in the groin, she made quick work of him.

Henry fared worse, but initially held his own nonetheless. He managed to knock out one cultist before being tackled by another. However, he clocked his assailant across the cheek, providing himself the momentum to push his way to freedom. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he missed the Fallen, who crept up behind him, knife in hand. In one swift motion, the corpse-like cultist impaled Henry in his back.

"NO!" Gehenna screamed, witnessing the blow.

Distracted, she allowed the Children the opportunity to dogpile her.

Thunder boomed as The Ghost cackled at the sight of the defeated before him.

…

Making their way to the suburbs of Keystone City, the Flash and Savitar tore their way down the street, igniting a trail of light behind them. Side-by-side, the speedsters looked at one another. That's when Savitar struck. He tackled the Flash, and the two began to tumble across the ground, exchanging blows. Slowing, the Flash managed to take control, only for Savitar to grab him beneath the crotch and the armpit, tossing him away. The speed god sped over to him and pinned him, just like that.

Finally, a camerawoman in a news copter caught sight of them. Within seconds, as the Flash tried to squirm his way out of Savitar's iron grip, the sky filled with news and police choppers alike.

"Metahumans, stand down!" a sniper called from the police chopper.

Thrusting his forearm across the Flash's chest to pin him, Savitar raised his free hand and began to vibrate it. The Scarlet Speedster's mind raced for a way out.

"Who do you think is faster: man or god?" Savitar asked, his lips curling into a slight grin.

"Barry!" Chester called through the comms.

"Goodbye, Flash," Savitar said, lowering his hand.

_BANG!_ The police sniper fired.

The instant before Savitar's hand reached the Flash's chest, the Scarlet Speedster's whole body began to vibrate. His particles moved so quickly that the speed god passed right through him. Savitar had only a moment to recognize his opponent's accomplishment before he had to catch the sniper's bullet.

'_I did it!'_ the Flash thought. For the first time, he'd successfully vibrated his entire body through an object, in this case Savitar's hand.

With a flick of his finger, Savitar launched the bullet back at the sniper, killing him.

"NO!" the Flash roared, slowing so he could grab Savitar.

However, the speed god smacked his hands away and swung his fist down toward the Flash's chest. The Scarlet Speedster managed to react quickly enough to vibrate through the blow. His fist plunged into the Flash's body, Savitar began to speed up his body. If he could vibrate faster than the Flash, he'd tear him apart from the inside out. Realizing this, the Flash focused on one thing and one thing only: going faster.

'_I can do this! I can do this!'_ The Flash grit his teeth as his golden Speed Force energy flew out chaotically, intermingling with Savitar's azure aura. _'I can go FASTER!'_

Suddenly, in a burst of blue-gold light, the Flash disappeared.

Police officers were too shocked to fire. News reporters stumbled over their words. Savitar looked down at the empty space before him, realization dawning on him. He'd won. The Flash was no more. Savitar's victorious cheer got lost amidst the sounds of thunder.

At last, a reporter from KCTV managed to state the obvious, "It looks like the Scarlet Speedster…is _dead!"_

…

Death initially felt like static electricity, but then transformed into the soft crunch of grass beneath the Flash's costume. The ground began to quake, and his survival instincts kicked into gear. The speedster activated his powers, stood, and surveyed his surroundings.

The obvious thing? He wasn't dead. The open plains around him looked like any other Kansas field the Flash had seen. However, he found himself perplexed by two particular sights. First, the source of the 'quake' was in fact a buffalo herd stampeding away. The second thing that caught him off guard was the group of thirteen scarcely garbed Native American men sporting war paint, who stood just two dozen yards away, each armed with a spear or bow and arrow. Not to be culturally insensitive, but the Flash didn't think anyone still dressed like that, let alone went hunting with primitive weaponry. Was it even legal to hunt buffalo?

Slowing down, the Flash waved at the hunters in the hope that they could point him toward Central City. "Hey—"

The youngest hunter fired his arrow. In a split second, the Flash caught it just inches from his head. The teen would have killed him if he hadn't reacted quickly.

Slowing again, Flash watched as one of the older hunters scolded the teen in a language he didn't recognize, while the others looked in the direction of the speedster, terrified. The eldest hunter kneeled, and in turn the others did the same. The teen initially hesitated, but followed their example nonetheless. Yet again, the Flash found himself a bit shocked. They were treating him like a god…

Uncomfortable with the situation, Flash decided to leave them be, and sped off in search of a town. However, there was nothing but plains, bison, and teepees for as far as he could see. It almost seemed like he'd gone back in time.

Desiring answers, the Flash returned to the hunters, surprising them again.

"Where is Central City?" he asked slowly, emphasizing the name of his hometown.

"Sin-trull sih-tee?" the eldest hunter wondered, pointing at the Flash.

"No," the Flash shook his head, and indicated himself, "Flash."

"Flash," the eldest repeated. The speedster nodded, as the others murmured, "Flash."

The hunters, sans teen, who looked defiantly at the Flash, bowed again. The eldest motioned for him to follow. "Flash."

Unsure of what else to do, the Flash elected to follow them. Walking amidst the pack of hunters, he noticed none of the others would so much as brush him. They stood a good two feet away, at least, with the exception of the teen, who not only walked right by the Flash's side, but spoke to him.

"Flash, oba wachee no?" the teen pointed to the Flash and then the sky.

The speedster followed his gaze to the storm clouds looming overhead, and pieced together that the teen was either asking if he'd created the upcoming storm or came from it.

Before one of the older hunters could admonish the teen, the Flash offered him a smile and shook his head. He then touched his own chest, saying, "Flash," and then pointed at the teen, requesting his name.

It took the boy a second to recognize his intention. He quickly introduced himself with a hand over his heart, "Ro'tacha." As a breeze picked up, he motioned around. "Ro'tacha."

"Ro'tacha…wind…" the Flash realized.

He extended his hand, and, after a tense moment, Ro'tacha took it.

Shaking his hand, the Flash smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, Ro'tacha."

Slowly, Ro'tacha's lips curled up into a toothy grin. "Chauk pell'fa, Flash."

…

The other Native Americans proved just as terrified and excited to meet the Flash as most of the hunters had. That made already difficult communication that much harder, even when he met the chief. All he could gather before the chief started a party in his honor was that the tribe was called the Ochatwa. The Flash spent nearly an hour asking around about Central City, but no one seemed to speak English or have heard of it. Eventually, his suspicions about time travel crept to the forefront of his mind, and he gave in to the tribe's wishes.

The Flash spent the evening moping over the feast thrown to win his favor. On either side of him sat beautiful women. Time and again, the chief seemed to offer the women to him. Each time, the Flash declined the offer. Eventually, the chief even brought forth a man, but again the Flash waved them away.

The only time he genuinely smiled was when he caught sight of Ro'tacha dancing around the fire. Stomping this way and that, the teen looked as if he didn't have a care in the world. At one point, he began to dance with a girl, who quickly pushed him aside. Without a hint of shame, Ro'tacha took a swig of something that certainly wasn't water and moved on to another girl. That drew the attention of a woman the Flash could only assume was his mother, who pulled Ro'tacha away to scold him.

Long after the sun had set, after what had felt like millenia to the Flash, the chief led him to an empty teepee adorned with the finest bedding he'd seen since he'd arrived. Thankful, the Flash shook the chief's hand, and then lay down.

So…where exactly was he? More importantly, when was he?

As the chief ducked out of the teepee, the Flash began to vibrate his body, faster and faster. This was how he'd traveled in time, right? He could do this…faster…

Nothing happened. He continued his attempts for what felt like hours, before surrendering to his exhaustion. Tomorrow he'd find out just when exactly he was…tomorrow he'd go home.

…

The Flash awoke to the sounds of clinking metal. He scrambled out of bed just in time to avoid a deadly blow dealt by a white man wielding a rapier. Flash made quick work of the soldier, knocking him out with a punch, and then pushed past the flap separating him from the rest of the tribe. His jaw dropped instantly, as he froze in place, the horrifying sight before him etching itself into his memory.

The Ochatwa's encampment was burning. Men, women, and children lay about the plains, butchered like cows. The chief and the eldest hunter stared blankly back at the Flash, their corpses strewn right in front of his teepee. They'd tried to protect him, he realized.

Cavalry wielding rapiers and crossbows confirmed the Flash's suspicions that he was in the past. The lack of firearms indicated it was likely prior to 1600. The unmistakable sound of French revealed the nationality of the murderers. This was a massacre, and French colonists were to blame.

Kicking himself into overdrive, the Flash took off. One by one, he defeated the French invaders, but in the end he wasn't fast enough to save the Ochatwa. Not a single teepee but his lay untouched. The screams of the mortally wounded outlasted the thunder booming overhead. Rain poured down upon the fallen, but could not put out every fire. The Flash could only spot one uninjured Ochatwa: someone he recognized.

Ro'tacha let loose a blood-curdling scream as he straddled a French soldier who had long since died, repeatedly stabbing him with a bone knife. The Flash sped over to the boy and grabbed his armed hand before he could bring it down again. Ro'tacha lashed out at him with his free hand without looking, but the speedster caught it. The boy finally met his gaze. Immediately his anger gave way to grief. His tears mixing with the rain, Ro'tacha allowed the Flash to pull him away and hold him in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Ro'tacha…" the Flash whispered.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning arced down from the sky and struck the Flash on the open plains. Golden energy coursed from his body into Ro'tacha's as the speedster transformed into light. In an instant, he had disappeared, leaving Ro'tacha to fall to the ground, shivering, his skin sparking with azure electricity.

…

In a burst of light, the Flash reappeared on a sunny day just inches from a kneeling man's face. The other man didn't so much as flinch, although he did appear surprised by the Flash's sudden arrival.

"Flash," the man uttered.

To the speedster, the man seemed familiar. His hair was braided in the same fashion as…

"Ro'tacha?" Flash wondered.

Ro'tacha, now fully grown, grinned and embraced the speedster. "Flash!"

Truthfully, Flash hadn't recognized Ro'tacha at first because he looked wildly different. The boy he'd been with just seconds before was lean and covered in paint. This man was not only built like more of a superhero than the Flash, but didn't have so much as a smudge of mud on his face.

Returning his embrace, the Flash got his first good look at the surrounding area. It looked as if they were at a grave site with burial mounds plotted all around. That led Flash to surmise he hadn't moved at all, but rather had gone forward in time. This was where the Ochatwa had died.

Before the shock of his constantly changing situation could settle, the Flash noticed a large crowd in the distance. A legion of Native Americans and Europeans stood back, shocked. To the side, a group of a dozen or so eerie gray-skinned men reminded the Flash of the Fallen, Jamie…Max's corpse-like, silent brother.

Ro'tacha pulled back and helped the Flash to his feet.

"What the hell is going on…?" the Flash muttered.

"You have returned," Ro'tacha said in English, surprising him. The lone survivor of the Ochatwa smiled and explained, "White men taught me your language."

"They…taught you English?" mumbled the Flash, shocked.

"Those who followed me, yes," Ro'tacha continued. His smile growing ever prouder, he finished, "I have put your gifts to good use by uniting many disparate people."

"My gifts…?"

"I never got to thank you face-to-face." Ro'tacha extended his hand to the Flash, who hesitated before shaking it. "Thank you for making me a god."

"I don't understand. What gifts? You're…" the Flash swallowed, then finished, "A god?"

A godly unifier of disparate tribes, even colonists. This sounded just like…

"The lightning, my lord. You blessed me with it, did you not? You gave me speed like yours." Ro'tacha zoomed around the Flash as he continued, blue energy trailing behind him as he began to piece together the situation, "The ability to control the very essence of life."

"'Control the very essence of life'?" the Flash began, before Ro'tacha interrupted him.

"I am now the one who does not understand. Have you not watched my every conquest? Did you not intend to give me these powers? I have only remained young for decades past my time because of your gifts, because I could drain the life from my enemies. I assembled my Children to honor you—to honor us! Was this not your will?" Ro'tacha's voice shook with a surprising fear, as well as something else…anger.

"Ro'tacha…what year is it? By the white man's calendar?" the Flash asked, realization sinking in.

Ro'tacha scowled, "The year of their false god 1618."

"And your people…they call you Ro'tacha?"

Ro'tacha smirked, an all too familiar suit of armor forming over his skin. "In a sense. I am the wind incarnate. They have named me _Savitar_."

The Flash felt like an enormous weight had dropped into his gut. It all made sense now. His encounter with Savitar in the present—their interconnecting Speed Force auras—had somehow sent him back in time to the so-called god's origin. The history books were right. He would fight Savitar…and he knew he would win, at least in this time. He just had to be smart about it.

"I'm impressed, Ro'tacha," Flash began.

"Please, call me Savitar," the other man proudly interrupted.

"Savitar," Flash corrected himself, "You've become powerful. Immortality? Raising the dead?" He motioned to the battalion of corpses. The Flash quickly wondered if he, too, could do that, before continuing, "Amassing an army? Impressive. But you are no god."

"My Children would disagree," Savitar growled, his anger returning. "Be clear in your words, Flash. What are you saying?"

"Need I repeat myself? You aren't a god," the Flash shot back.

"That is enough. If you will not explain yourself, I will discover the truth myself," Savitar wrapped his hands around the Flash's head faster than the Scarlet Speedster could react.

Both speedsters' eyes lit up with blue energy, and the Flash felt his mind race back to memories, old and new: weekends at grandpa Don's, his mother's death, his high school graduation, the day he got his powers, his first encounter with Savitar…

"No…NO!" Savitar recoiled, freeing the Flash. "Traitor…liar…" After a moment, he looked up, eyes bright with tears, "You—_you_ are no god!"

Savitar lashed out with his fist, but the Flash saw the attack coming. He sidestepped the blow and launched Savitar forward with two hands. The self-proclaimed deity tumbled before his followers, motivating the warriors to draw their weapons. The corpses nocked arrows and drew spears. However, as he rose, Savitar reached out with his hand, stopping them.

"This is my fight! The Demon will die by my hands!" Savitar declared.

Just like that, the real battle began. The Flash and Savitar charged at one another. This time, Savitar was prepared, and his warrior instincts kicked into gear. He feinted a punch, then roundhouse kicked Flash into the ground, sending a tremor across the plains. However, the speedster quickly recovered, rolling up onto his feet.

The Flash knew he was outmatched in hand to hand combat. He only had two real ways to win. He either had to outsmart Savitar, or outrun the pseudo-god altogether. Why not try for both?

"I can do this, I can do this," the Flash muttered, sprinting away from Savitar, who immediately gave chase.

"COWARD!" Savitar roared.

"At least I'm not delusional," Flash yelled back. _'Keep it going. Just piss him off some more.'_

Savitar grunted in frustration and attempted to tackle the Scarlet Speedster. However, the Flash changed direction at the last second, causing him to crash into the ground. Savitar nonetheless rose back to his feet before the Flash could return to strike him. The speedsters took off again, zigzagging this way and that. Suddenly an idea popped into the Flash's head.

"That'll do, pig," he whispered.

The Flash ran right into the crowd of Savitar worshipers. He wouldn't actually hurt any of them, but their so-called god didn't know that. As he suspected, Savitar slowed to a halt, while his followers shrunk back, afraid.

"How much did you see?" the Flash asked, stalling.

"Fight me, coward," Savitar growled.

"Answer my question," the Flash demanded, vibrating his hand. A child screamed. The hero felt a pang of guilt.

Savitar waited a moment, then sighed in resignation. "I know enough. I know that I will return. I know my Children will revive me. The Ghost…The Fallen…The Distant Son…by just uttering their names, I have set the entire plan in motion."

"Their names?" the Flash pushed. Did he know about his father?

"Their titles. However you wish to refer to them. Their real names are as insignificant as you," Savitar spat.

Relief washed over Flash. Savitar didn't know his father was the Distant Son. History hadn't changed…which meant he was still going to win. If Savitar had to lose…had to end up as nothing but a Speed Force ghost, then that meant…

'_Gotcha,'_ Flash grinned.

"What's your play, Flash?! Fi—"

Flash zoomed through the crowd toward Savitar. The speed god reacted quickly enough, preparing to punch the Flash. However, the Scarlet Speedster was more than prepared for his attack. He vibrated his molecules so that he passed right through Savitar. Planting one foot, the Flash spun around and grabbed him beneath his armpits. He then took off across the plains, picking up speed faster than he ever had before.

Savitar tried to squirm his way to freedom, but the Flash had pinned him with the sheer force he produced by running. He knew he could do this, because in truth he'd already done it! History was set. Soon enough, even with their auras, neither speedster could speak. Their surroundings became but a blur. The Flash's brain couldn't process everything as quickly as he could run. Finally confident in his abilities, he'd broken all his previous records, but it still wasn't enough. He had to keep going—he had to run _faster!_

The Flash could only see white, but he continued onwards. He focused on the feeling of electricity coursing through him and urged it to strengthen him, to make him faster. With the utmost confidence, he tapped into the Speed Force in a way he never had before, and began to vibrate Savitar alongside him as he ran. Their golden and blue auras began to merge until all that was left was stark white energy.

That's when it began. Savitar's hand faded into Speed Force energy. He tried to scream, but his voice was lost in the vacuum. His other arm went, then his legs, chest, neck, and, at last, his head. The Flash had won…but he couldn't stop. He tried, but his body wouldn't slow down. His hands, too, began to merge with the Speed Force, and that's when it hit him.

'_Mom…'_

That memory. The first time he'd 'walked.' And the days he'd played with both of his parents. The nights his father would read him Flash comics before bed. His father…he needed Barry. The whole world needed him. They needed a hero.

They needed the Flash.

Focusing on his father, the last time he'd seen him, how much he loved him, he began to see an image in the Speed Force. It was of his father, injured, bleeding on the gravel outside of the Children's church.

With one last step, the Flash emerged in the present at his father's side, sliding to a halt, energy trailing behind him.

"Flash!" Gehenna exclaimed, caught beneath half a dozen cultists.

The Scarlet Speedster grinned. "Sorry I'm late."


	12. The Man Who Saved the Gem Cities

**A/N: And here we are: the final chapter in First Steps, the first volume of my Flash saga. It's been an adventure getting here. I want to thank everyone who stuck around, and even those readers who are just now trying the story for the first time. Y'all rock! To fans new and old, you can expect the first chapter in The Flash vol. 2 later this month. **

**Heart of the Demons: Thanks, as always, for reviewing! You've been a consistent follower and fan for well over a year now, and I thank you for that. You can't know how much it means to me.**

**boysa boysa: I'm so relieved that Savitar's origin and characterization work for you. Here's to more compelling villains in the future, my friend.**

**...**

**THE FLASH: FIRST STEPS**

Chapter 12: The Man Who Saved the Gem Cities

_My name is Barry Allen, and I'm the Fastest Man Alive. I am the Flash. _

_Whoo boy, it feels good to finally say that. _

…_sorry for getting off track. The story was just getting good. I'd finally embraced my role as a hero, and had arrived in the present at my father's side._

…

Two seconds. That's all the time it took to free Gehenna from the clutches of her captors and safely incapacitate them all. Before the others could so much as react, the Flash had nabbed his father and his friend, and sped away from the church.

By the time the Flash vibrated their way into Mercy General Hospital, Gehenna finally registered what had just happened.

"Barry…" she mumbled under her breath, while the speedster looked frantically around the hall, his injured father in his arms.

"Can I get a doctor over here?!" the Flash demanded.

A nurse quickly recovered from her shock and rolled a hospital bed over to the superhero. Before the Flash could set his father on the bed, Dr. Chapel emerged from his one-time room and hurried over.

"I can handle this," Chapel said. She paused for but a moment to give Gehenna an odd look before she asked, "Do you need assistance, too?"

"No, I'm fine," the battered Gehenna assured her.

Chapel nodded in response, looked briefly at the nurse, and then rolled Henry away with her help.

Now alone, the Flash turned to Gehenna and said, "Stay here. Watch out for my dad."

"Of course," she agreed.

"Gehenna!" came the voice of Elias, drawing the others' attention.

The STAR Labs scientist ran over from Barry's hospital room, followed quickly behind by a surprised and eager Iris West.

"Where's Barry?" the scientist feigned concern, causing a smile to flash across the superhero's lips.

"I moved him to a secure location. He wasn't safe here," the Flash explained.

"Told you the Flash took him," Elias said to Iris, as she interjected, "Is he okay?"

"Of course. He's stable and on the mend. Looks like he might even be able to walk again," the Flash offered.

"What?!" Iris and Elias exclaimed in unison. The scientist then continued, "But the doctors said…"

'_Nice acting,'_ Flash thought, interrupting him, "I know a…gifted physician who took care of him. He's a miracle worker."

"Oh my God," Iris cupped her hands over her mouth, tears of relief flooding her eyes.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a city to save," the Flash winked at Gehenna, then zoomed away before the others could respond.

Elias looked at his injured protégé, "Why are you—"

"A story for another time," she said. After taking a deep breath, she muttered, "Priority numero uno: coffee."

…

Back at the Children's church, the cultists had just begun to recover inside when they heard sirens. Someone screamed, "police," and most of them began to panic, shoving each other out of the way to flee the area. Not even slightly concerned, The Ghost scanned the room for the head priestess, who was trying to calm everyone down. He walked with purpose over to her, drawing her gaze.

"Ghost, thank Savitar. Help me stop—"

With one punch, The Ghost knocked her clean out. In the chaos, no one bothered to help her. His gaze cold, the time traveler knelt down beside the priestess' unconscious form and took the lightning knife from her hand.

"Sorry about that," he offered without a hint of regret. Standing, he looked at The Fallen—who had simply stared at the thunderous sky throughout—and ordered, "Corpse. Follow me. Remove anyone who gets in my way."

The Fallen did as he was told without hesitation, pushing aside the Children who crossed The Ghost's path. As they neared the exit, the time traveler shed his cloak and ordered his undead companion to stop. Dressed now in a button up and suit pants, The Ghost produced handcuffs from his belt and restrained The Fallen's hands. With nothing left to do, he calmly led The Fallen outside as CCPD cruisers encircled the building.

As Daniel West emerged from one of the vehicles, pistol drawn, The Ghost picked up speed, pushing The Fallen toward him. Upon seeing the white-haired man, Daniel's eyes lit up with confusion, and then joy. He lowered his weapon and then moved around his car to greet The Ghost.

"Eddie! This was your undercover assignment?" Daniel wondered, embracing the man.

"Man, do I got some crazy stories for you, partner." Eddie stepped back and motioned around to the panicked cultists, many of whom had already been apprehended by police officers. "Started this case 'cause of rumors of human sacrifice. That's just the tip of the iceberg."

"We were responding to Henry Allen's phone call. Are these guys—"

"Behind Bloody Monday? Yes. Only stuck around as long as I did because they had me watched 24-7. Didn't trust the 'new guy,'" Eddie grimly explained. He opened the car door and shoved The Fallen inside. "Let's get this creepy asshole back to the station and I'll tell you all about it."

Daniel shook his head. "You go on ahead. My dad'll have my head if I go back without having taken one of these suckers down."

Daniel tossed Eddie the car keys, leaving the man to ask, "You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll catch a ride with my dad," Daniel said.

"Good luck," Eddie said, getting into the driver's seat.

"Please. I make my own luck," Daniel cockily shot back, drawing his pistol.

As his partner chased after an escaping cultist, Eddie pulled out of the lot. The instant he made his way onto the highway, a victorious grin crept its way onto his lips.

"I love it when a plan comes together," he cooed, taking an exit westward toward Denver.

…

"Barry? Jesus Christ, Barry are you okay?" Chester's voice came through the Flash's comms as the speedster crossed the Ruby Bridge to Keystone City.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Chess," the Flash assured him.

"Oh, thank God. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw your comm link appear," Chester muttered. "What happened?"

"Later, man. For now...I'm going solo."

"Wait, wha—"

The Flash shut off his comms before Chester could finish. He needed silence. He needed focus. To take down Savitar this time, he needed to go at it alone, free from distractions.

Luckily for the Flash, it appeared like he hadn't been gone for too long. He found Savitar atop a factory, boasting about who-knows-what to the camera. That was the benefit of battling a speedster with a god complex. He liked to hear his own voice more than the average supervillain…not that Flash had much experience with supervillains.

"…so long as you surrender, I will treat you with—"

In an instant, Savitar had been taken out of the shot and out of view by the Flash. Finally settling down in an empty rural area, the Scarlet Speedster tossed the so-called god to the ground. Here, no one would be endangered by their conflict. Here, they could talk in peace.

"Flash…how…?" Savitar began, his anger mixed with confusion.

"I know why you pretend you're a god. I know why you hate me…and I'm sorry. We can still move past this. I can help you find a better body…a home," the Flash offered.

"Home? My home burned when the French invaded. And forgiveness? For the centuries of hell you put me through? For what you cost me? The only reason you even offer peace is because you fear for your friend," Savitar growled.

"That's not true. I know what I did, but you have to understand, I'm still figuring all of this hero business out. And history was set. Who knows what would have happened if—"

"SILENCE!" Savitar roared. "Step off your high horse, Flash. You are no hero. You are no god. You're nothing but a wolf in sheep's skin. Should you win here, your so-called friends will come to understand you as I do…someday…"

The Flash paused, nodding solemnly. "You're right. There's no excuse that'll explain away my actions. I'm no god. I'm imperfect…but I'm trying to be better. You can too. If you just trust me—"

Savitar stepped forward, silencing him. "The only white man I trust is one who bows before me."

The battle began in an instant, and it was one the Flash knew he couldn't win. Racing away from Savitar, he felt a smidgen of doubt creep into his mind again. He had no history to guarantee his victory, to give him a path to take. He had no way to save Max without killing him and Savitar, and the Flash refused to murder either. There was no way to beat Savitar by running faster, by employing his knowledge of science, by going at it any way he knew how. The Flash couldn't beat Savitar…but he knew someone who could.

His hope restored and a plan in motion, the Flash outraced Savitar until he managed to circle around him. He latched onto the armored speedster beneath his armpits, just as he had in the past. Savitar's eyes immediately widened with panic, and his terror only grew as he discovered he couldn't force his way out of the Flash's grip. After all, this body was weaker than his last, and he hadn't managed it then…

"You wouldn't dare—"

"Wouldn't I?" the Flash maintained his speed. "I'm a demon, right? What's some mortal boy to me?"

Savitar began to vibrate his body in a panic, but the Flash matched his frequency. It wasn't all that hard, especially given the armored speedster was blinded by fear. Centuries more in a maddening hell, this time with no promise of escape, no prophecy to save him…

Savitar began to scream. His tears spun out of control at incredible speeds. He saw his mother's mutilated corpse in his mind's eye. His burning village. Death, so much death…something he couldn't escape…

"This is getting boring, Ro'tacha. You're so slow. What have you got on me?" The Flash wondered.

That's it. The Flash had dug his own grave, Savitar realized, his mind racing. He did have a power the Scarlet Speedster didn't…

"I REFUSE TO DIE!" Savitar pressed his hands against what little of the Flash he could reach and felt energy overcome him.

The armored speedster's eyes lit up with azure light, and the Flash quickly mirrored him. Both slowed to a halt in the middle of nowhere, America, as the Flash stumbled to the ground, his mind slogging back to memories better left untouched. After briefly separating, Savitar tackled the Flash and wrapped his hands around the Scarlet Speedster's head.

"NO!" The Flash cried, but it was too late.

Savitar reactivated his telepathic power, and the two raced into the Flash's mind…

'_This is it. My only chance to save Max…'_ the Flash thought.

'_Wrong, Flash. I win. Lose yourself, as I did, in nightmares you can't outrun,'_ came Savitar's booming voice.

Suddenly, the Flash found himself soaring through memories until he landed in—

…

Barry toppled to the ground, losing hold of his crutches after Harley Wilson, his eternal tormentor, had pushed him aside in the middle school hallway. Pre-teens all around snickered at the crippled twelve-year-old, who looked around with equal embarrassment and anger.

"Oops. Sorry, Allen. Just in a rush to get to class," Harley spat.

Barry merely nodded in response, reaching for his crutches, as Harley's lackeys—including the ever-reliable Daniel West—laughed at the comment. No one came to Barry's rescue. Iris was nowhere to be seen. No teacher bothered to check out the source of the commotion.

"He thinks he can be a cop? With no legs?" Daniel chortled, only halfheartedly trying to keep Barry from hearing.

"Cop scientist, Danny. He wants to be a cop scientist…not that his nerdy dream is any more realistic," Harley replied, and his lackeys exploded with laughter again.

Barry felt tears rush into his eyes, drawing more laughter from those around him. First, his mother, just a month ago. Now this…

He fell to the ground again and again, as his torment was repeated, the memory playing on a loop. Barry knew this wasn't right…knew someone was doing something to him, but he'd forgotten the real villain's name. Worse, he couldn't escape the memory of how he felt that day: alone, humiliated, and weak.

Suddenly, in one repeat, Barry found that his childhood bully was now darker skinned, wearing nothing but a loincloth and tribal paint. Still, he couldn't remember his name. He felt hope sink away…

"Oops. Sorry, Allen. Just in a rush to get to class," the bully uttered, but this time added, "What? Too weak to fight back?"

That broke the chain. Barry suddenly remembered what was happening. Savitar…he'd made a mistake. His ego, his desire to lord this win over Barry had cost him his victory.

"You almost had me, Ro'tacha. I was going insane, lost in the memory of the time I felt the most alone…but you had to gloat," Barry said, looking up from the ground.

Ro'tacha's eyes widened as the memory continued.

"You missed something huge, too. How the memory ends," Barry finished, smiling.

Ro'tacha's form faded to Harley's, who finished, "…any more realistic."

His goons laughed, as Barry grabbed his crutches.

Hoisting himself back up, tears in his eyes, Barry called, "Harley!"

The larger boy turned around, eyes alight, ready for a fight, "You got somethin' to say, Allen?"

Barry paused, then struggled through his tears to finish, "I'm sorry about your mom. I didn't understand before but…losing your mom…it's a lot. A lot of pain. I'm so sorry."

He was full on sobbing in the middle of the hallway now. However, nobody bothered to laugh at him this time. Harley and his friends remained speechless.

Finally, without moving, Harley said, "Me too. I'm sorry about your mom…and I'm sorry I pushed you."

With that, Harley walked away, followed quickly by his friends. The memory faded, until Barry found himself grown again, crutchless, facing Savitar in his original adult body. The self-proclaimed god shook with anger, his hands clenched into fists.

"How did you…every time, you best me—EVERY TIME!" Savitar launched himself forward, his fist raised to punch Barry. "I AM A GOD!"

The attack sent Barry careening away, nearly into another memory. However, he quickly stabilized himself, and stood up again.

"No, you're a man," Barry said, rising, "And someday I hope you'll be okay with that, Ro'tacha."

"MY NAME IS SAVITAR!" The Native American warrior roared, charging Barry again.

This time, Barry was ready. This time, he caught Savitar's punch, surprising the warrior.

"I won't give up on you, but for now…" Barry grabbed Savitar's head and pulled it up against his. "Max—fight back!"

At once, the blackness around them faded and was replaced by a memory. This one, however, was not Barry's. Instead, both speedsters found themselves standing in front of a newly buried grave, the tombstone reading 'JAMIE MISSICHKONE.' One particular young man stood before it, staring blankly at the plot of dirt...

"Max…" Barry called to his friend, but he couldn't hear him.

Savitar grabbed Barry's arm and threw him onto the grave. "His body is mine, now and forevermore! Even if I can't win—" He leaped atop Barry and began to throttle his face, "You will still lose him!"

"Max, please—" Barry screamed, already losing control, the images around him fading to that of a bloodied kitchen. "You're the only one who can beat Savitar! You are strong enough for this, brave enough!"

"God…what the hell is wrong with you? What were you thinking?" Max glumly whispered over his brother's grave, the memory continuing.

"I know how you feel about heroes, Max," Barry began. Savitar was beginning to look more like a corpse…like his mother's. The kitchen grew sharper, more defined. He struggled to continue, "But I need one right now. I need you. Please!"

"Goddammit," Max growled, tightening his hands into fists.

Barry felt terror like never before, felt the pressure of crutches beneath his arms, and worse, the pressure in his chest as he struggled to comprehend the sight before him. His mother…broken…bleeding…

Dead.

"Goddammit!" Someone screamed. _"Get off my fucking friend, you narcissistic piece of shit!"_

Suddenly, Barry was in darkness again, but he wasn't alone. Max stood over him, and offered his hand. Barry grinned and took it, allowing his friend to help him up.

Nearby, Savitar rose to his feet, rage boiling to the surface. "Mortal, you _dare_ touch _me_?!" He charged at the two, fist raised. "A _god_?!"

Max shot Savitar a derisive look and said, "Eat shit."

Just like that, the speed god disappeared.

…

And the Flash and Max awoke amidst the open plains, the one-time host of Savitar now in nothing but pants, the armor gone.

"Oh my God," the Flash muttered, before reaching out to embrace his friend.

However, Max held him back, saying, "Uh uh. No hugs."

The Flash laughed, "Yeah, that's you alright."

Ignoring him, Max took a moment to scan their surroundings, then said, "Let's get out of here. Wherever the hell here is."

The Flash rose up onto his feet at superspeed. "Race ya there?"

Max stared at him with the utmost disappointment. "You really think accessing Savitar's powers is a good idea?"

"Right…no superspeed till we know more about your situation," the Flash agreed, blushing.

With that said, he grabbed his friend and sped off in search of Central City.

…

Barry and Max ran into Mercy General hospital at regular speed, dressed in new civvies. Before they could get too far, Gehenna and Iris both rose to slow them down, neither one smiling despite the happy reunion all around.

"Barry, I—I'm glad you're okay, but don't—" Iris began, only to have the blond interrupt her.

"What? What's wrong? Is my dad okay?" Barry wondered, panicked.

As if on cue, Dr. Chapel exited a hospital room labeled with erasable marker 'HENRY ALLEN' alongside police captain Joe West. Barry felt his heart sink into his chest. He pushed past Iris and hurried over to Joe and Chapel, both of whom saw him coming.

"Barry—" Joe began, but the blond had already started to speak.

"What the hell is going on?" Barry demanded.

"Your father, Barry, you saw what he could do…" Joe said.

Barry looked inside the room through the door's window only to discover his father appeared okay…but was handcuffed to his bed.

"Superpowers aren't sufficient evidence for a warrant," Barry argued.

"_He confessed."_

Joe's words fell on deaf ears. Barry couldn't have heard him correctly. He hadn't.

"My father is innocent," Barry stated, his ears ringing.

"Not according to him," Joe explained, motioning to the room. "I'm sorry, Barry. I really am. I thought I knew him, but…I'm sorry."

Joe fought back tears, motivating Iris to wrap her arms comfortingly around him. No one, not even Dr. Chapel, tried to stop Barry as he entered his father's room, his face ghostly pale…

Meanwhile, Max leaned over to Gen and whispered, "My brother…?"

"The Children were arrested, but Captain West…he didn't mention Jamie. I'm sorry," Gehenna apologized.

Max shrunk back against the wall, his gaze dark, mind racing.

…

Henry greeted Barry with a somber look. Neither spoke for a while. Finally, Henry mustered the strength to answer the question he knew was on his son's mind.

"I am guilty—"

"No, you're not—"

"_Let me finish!"_ Henry suddenly exploded, teary eyed.

Barry quieted. Slowly, he sat down across from his father, looking and feeling like he was about to fall apart.

"I only remember bits and pieces, but…I murdered innocent people, Barry. Yes, Savitar had control of me, but someone has to answer for his crimes. And you can't even imagine what it's like knowing you…" Henry looked down at his hands, which quivered. "It should be me. Not Max. Not anyone else. Me. Lord knows I've done enough to deserve this."

"I can't lose you, too," Barry broke down crying.

"You won't. I'll still be around, just…away. You can visit me every day," Henry said, trying to feign optimism, although he, too, was crying.

Barry couldn't speak. All he could bring himself to do was go to his father's side, hold his hand, and cry into his shoulder. With his free hand, Henry patted his son's head, as the two let out all the pain they'd stored up inside for so long, and all the pain they knew was to come.

…

**Later**

Standing outside Mercy General, a reporter for CCTV was in the middle of her broadcast when she got the surprise of her life…

"…that Henry Allen—one of the superfast killers behind Bloody Monday—has confessed to his—"

"Hey, Central City."

The reporter screamed at the sudden appearance of the Flash, who caught the mic after she dropped it.

"Not gonna hurt you. Sorry for the scare. Been told I should stop doing that," the Flash laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "So, just want to introduce myself real quick. Hi. I'm the Flash. You might recognize me from the crazy crap that just went on. I'm a, uh…a superhero. That's not a joke. At least, it's not supposed to be. And the other bad speedsters—the super fast people, to clarify—they've been beaten and safely detained. Everything's fine…and will be fine from now on. That's all I've got. See ya tomorrow, CC. Flash out."

With that, the Flash disappeared, tossing the mic in the air for the reporter to catch. She did, and then looked at the camera, grinning like crazy.

"You heard it here first, folks. Central City has its very own super—"

"—oh, and one more thing," the Flash sped back into the shot, causing the reporter to scream again. "Sorry," he muttered, before finishing, "Iris West, you get the exclusive on me tomorrow at 8 am outside the place we first met. 'Til then."

The Flash waved and then zoomed away, leaving the CCTV reporters to gush over their scoop (and make fun of their colleague).

…

"Any luck?" the Flash asked after speeding into STAR Labs.

Max didn't even look up from his computer, continuing to hack rapidfire as he replied, "Nope. None of the Children of the Lightning's files have much on Jamie. All we know is Savitar revived him during one of his mind control trips…"

"—and he creeps a lot of people out," Chester interjected. Upon a look from every other member of Team Flash, he blushed and cluelessly protested, "What?"

The Flash continued, ignoring his blatant lack of social courtesy, "So, the Fallen is your brother?"

"That's what it looks like," Max agreed. "And he's fallen off of the face of the earth."

"We'll find him," the Flash promised, demasking.

"And when we do, we'll prove your father's innocence," Gehenna jumped in.

"It's just a matter of time," Elias agreed, and Chess nodded in turn, causing the Flash to smile, albeit slightly.

"Thanks, guys," he said.

"One more thing, Barry," Max began. "The Children's victims were their members."

"What?!"

"Jefferson Cleaver, Dana Rory, Ken Landis, all Children. They only defected because they were chosen to be sacrifices. The so-called 'power source' for Savitar's temp brainwashing sessions with your dad. I've already leaked their info to the police," Max explained.

"You did what?! Their families, Max—haven't they gone through enough?" Barry protested.

Max finally looked up from the computer screen, his gaze ice cold. "The Children murdered my brother, Barry. Turned him into a monster. Their families should know who the real monsters were."

Barry's gaze fell, and he remained silent. None of the others knew what to say. Max simply returned to his search for Jamie, although when his face was hidden behind the monitor he bit his lip, the slightest hint of regret lingering in his mind. He honestly hadn't considered the effect the leak would have on the families of the victims…how they might suffer.

How they might react.

…

Mick shattered the beer bottle in his hand, his grip so tight it broke right through the glass. He didn't so much as grunt at the wounds on his hand, the shards that shimmered with his blood. His gaze was locked on the TV, as a reporter read aloud the names of the Children's victims, and their association with the organization.

"Hey, Mick, are you okay?" Tanya, the bartender, checked on him.

"I gotta go. Sorry about the mess," Mick slurred his words.

He stumbled out of the bar, and nobody tried to stop him. It was only after the humid summer air crashed against his skin and knocked some sense back into him that he bothered to look down at his injured hand. Piece by piece, he picked out the glass, each shard a memory.

The time he and Dana had stolen money from their parents. The time Dana had cheated off of Mick to pass a chemistry final in high school. And then the fire…that shimmering, powerful flame. The sight of her small, tween form standing in the doorway of their home, matchbox in hand, as she laughed like a madwoman at the burning building, their parents trapped inside. The spark had always been there. Dana had never been the 'good one,' no matter what their parents had said, no matter how often she had scolded Mick about his criminal lifestyle, no matter what Mick had told himself.

"I always lied for you…" Mick drunkenly grumbled, trudging down the street, tears lining his cheeks. "Told them I did it. Told 'em I lit the match. Told 'em _I _was the bad one."

Dana was a criminal. A murderer. Maybe the reason Mick couldn't shake the fire in his heart.

Then again, Mick was no better, only he'd always known that. Always admitted it until recently. He wasn't law-abiding. He wasn't level headed. He wasn't ordinary.

Mick Rory was a Rogue.

…

Checking in with everyone at the CCPD had been a strenuous ordeal. For starters, everyone felt the need to give Barry their condolences and explain to him that they hadn't seen what happened with his father coming. Knowing the truth made it that much harder for Barry to carry a conversation with them. Truthfully he just wanted to get back into a routine, to get his mind off of acquitting his father until they had solid evidence to back them up. It proved virtually impossible, at least that night, given that even Singh refused to give him work.

So Barry returned home, utterly exhausted and frustrated, only to stumble across Leonard Snart—Iris' boyfriend—who was on his way out. That naturally didn't help his mood, at all. Still, Barry managed to play nice. After all Len didn't seem like a bad guy.

"Hey, how's it going?" Barry asked, mustering a smile.

"So-so. Crazy day, right?" Len replied.

"Yeah, I hear you," Barry weakly replied, his exhaustion leaking through the cracks.

"Well, keep your chin up. Nothing and nobody controls your mood except you. Only thing stopping happiness from coming your way—"

"—is myself," Barry finished, the slightest hint of a smile creeping over his lips.

"Exactly. Have a good night," Len passed him by, offering him a quick pat on the back.

"You too," Barry said, pausing for but a second to watch Len go before he continued to his apartment.

Nobody had offered him real advice all night. Nobody had actually tried to help. They just offered their condolences and politely said they could talk if need be. But Leonard Snart, a guy who barely knew him, actually knew what to say.

Barry's more upbeat mood was quickly dampened when he entered his apartment. He immediately noticed some of the living room had been cleared out. At first, he was afraid they'd been robbed. It was only after calling Max's name to no response and checking his room that Barry realized the truth. Max had left.

Before he could worry for too long about Savitar having taken control of his friend again, he discovered a note on Max's stripped bed. It read:

_Barry, _

_Sorry to leave so suddenly, but I need some time away. I need to clear my head and figure out how to move forward. My brother's out there somewhere, and I've got a god trapped inside me. There's a lot I need to process, and Central City isn't the right place to do that. I'll be back eventually. Watch out for the others for me til then. Stay strong. _

_Your friend,_

_Max_

_P.S. You still owe me rent._

Barry couldn't help it. He chuckled. Yeah, he wished Max would have stuck around, certainly considering they had just recently bonded, but he knew he would be back. The joke at the end as good as confirmed that. Barry had friends, _real_ friends, and that made his crazy situation that much more manageable. Better, even. Maybe he was being overly optimistic, but…nah, forget that. Forget cynicism. That just wasn't Barry. Everything would work out in the end, he knew it.

Barry crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

Then, with a gentle smile, he whispered, "Team Flash for life."

…

As promised, The Flash met Iris outside Mercy General the following day. However, he arrived fifteen minutes late, filling the reporter with worry.

Looking down at her watch, Iris sighed with relief, "Thank God. I'd begun to think you weren't coming. It just seemed so surreal. Why me? Not that I'm ungrateful, of course."

"Your friend Barry Allen recommended you, said you were someone I could trust to set my story straight," the Flash admitted, paused, and then said, "And sorry about my tardiness, Ms. West. There was a house fire on 40th," the Flash muttered, rubbing the back of his head with embarrassment.

"Did everyone get out okay?" Iris asked, concern overtaking her motherly scolding tone.

The Flash simply nodded in return, "Yup."

"That's a relief," Iris said, as she turned on her phone's recorder, "Well, let's get right to it, then."

After covering the basics of his superpowers and heroic intentions, Iris began to realize the Flash wouldn't reveal any serious secrets to her. With that understanding, she decided to adopt a more playful route for the rest of the interview.

"Aren't you worried about the potential legal ramifications of taking on a copyrighted name?" Iris inquired.

"Oh, sure, National Comics can sue me," Flash winked, "If they can catch me."

As if to prove his point, the Scarlet Speedster whirled around the beautiful brunette, whipping up a fierce wind. Iris had to hold down her skirt to keep it from flying up. The Flash noticed what he'd done, stopped, his cheeks as red as his costume, and nodded at the reporter, just as police sirens began to ring in the distance.

"Sorry, Ms. West," his words started to blur together, "Gottarun. Haveagoodafternoon."

Before he could receive a response, the Fastest Man Alive sped off toward the sunrise. As he raced down street after street, the sirens drawing ever nearer, he couldn't help but smile. It felt odd. Unnatural, even…but somehow right. They'd struggled so much, lost so much, but there was still hope. There was always hope. After all, who knew what tomorrow would bring?

_**The Flash Vol. 1: First Steps  
**_**FIN**

**EPILOGUE ONE: The Return**

Leonard Snart had watched the news about the speedsters with the utmost curiosity. This Flash, he was a game changer. Crime wouldn't pay if Len kept at his normal tricks. He needed more than a plan…he needed an upgrade.

As an idea began to ruminate in the back of his mind, knocking drew Len's attention to the door. Expecting Iris, Len ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt. However, as he looked through the peephole, he discovered a notably drunken Mick was the one outside, struggling to stand.

Len opened the door, gave his longtime friend a derisive look, and said, "Looking good, Mick."

The hotheaded ex-con shot him a pitiful look like a beaten dog, and pushed past him into his apartment.

"Yeah, come on in," Len sarcastically muttered.

Collapsing onto the couch, Mick mumbled something Len couldn't understand.

"What was that?" Len asked.

"My sister, she…" Mick choked on his tears.

Len didn't so much as hesitate to sit down beside his friend and comfort him with a simple pat on his back. "What happened?"

Mick took a deep, shuddering breath and then glumly stated, "Ain't no good in this world."

"Mick—"

"I'm back, Snart," Mick interrupted.

"…what?" Len felt a smile coming on.

Mick's eyes were now full of fire as he met Len's gaze.

"_I'm back. The Rogues are back."_

…

**EPILOGUE TWO: The Storm to Come**

Harrison Wells had only been pulled over once at the age of sixteen right after he'd received his driver's license. He'd run a red light on his way to school, and, after explaining the situation to the police officer who had pulled him over, he'd gotten off with a warning. From that day forward, he swore never to make the same mistake again, to be a perfect driver. Like with his work, Harrison was obsessive about living up to this vow.

So it was with the utmost rage and confusion that Harrison pulled to the side of the road after being signaled by a police cruiser behind him, having broken no law that he could think of. He took a deep breath, calming himself, and looked in his rearview mirror, first at his own reflection then the officer's.

Harrison was well groomed, his face shaven and his gray hair slicked up stylishly. His suit was pressed to perfection and his golden bow tie looked spectacular with his black button up shirt. He looked the part of a Nobel Prize-winning scientist. One who, in fact, was on his way to another awards show.

The police officer, on the other hand, appeared disheveled. His messy, stark white hair stood out considering his youthful complexion, and his clothes were more than a little wrinkled. Odder, he freed a red-cloaked man who looked deathly ill from the back of his cruiser, and approached Harrison's Toyota Volt with him in tow.

As the cop reached his window, Harrison handed him his driver's license, "Excuse me, sir. You might recognize me. I'm Harrison—"

"—Wells, yes. Is there anyone else in the car?" the white-haired officer asked, scanning the inside as his gray-skinned friend stared at Harrison.

The renowned scientist dry swallowed and continued, "No. Can I ask why you pulled me over?"

"Unlock your car," the cop said.

"Excuse me?" Harrison replied, growing progressively more suspicious.

The cop flashed him his badge—the name Eddie Thawne engraved on it—and repeated, "Unlock your car, or exit the vehicle. Your choice."

"I have rights—"

"Dr. Wells…"

"Fine. But you'll be hearing from my lawyer about this," Harrison swore, unlocking the car doors.

Detective Thawne then opened the back door and motioned for his cloaked friend to enter. As Harrison began to protest, Thawne sat down inside the vehicle after his friend and shut the door.

"What the hell—"

Suddenly, Harrison discovered a knife at his throat—one with a blade shaped like a lightning bolt.

"Drive," Thawne growled.

"Where?" Harrison wondered, panicked.

"Just drive," Thawne demanded, and Harrison did as he was told. After they'd picked up speed and continued for a few minutes down the highway, the detective laughed coolly and said, "My dear Dr. Wells, I have such exciting plans for you…"

…

**EPILOGUE THREE: The Once and Future Flash  
****Date: Eventually**

"…and that's it. The end of my 'origin story,'" Barry Allen finished, leaning back on the couch.

In the years since he'd defeated Savitar, Barry's face had wrinkled slightly, and while his hair hadn't yet begun to gray, it had grown thinner. He now wore it short, close cropped to his head. It seemed even the Flash had to succumb to the effects of aging. On his right hand sat two rings: a wedding band and a thick circlet emblazoned with a lightning bolt.

"That's cute, capping it with the first time I interviewed you," Iris teased, stopping the recorder on her smart watch.

Like Barry, Iris had aged gracefully, although you wouldn't mistake her for the young twenty-something of her early reporter days. She, too, wore her hair much shorter, and had adopted a generally more casual demeanor, the stress of youth long since gone. Iris also sported a wedding ring of her own encrusted with a diamond.

"You ready to keep going, or do you want to take a break?" Iris asked.

Before Barry could answer, someone knocked at the door. A boy's voice rang out from the other side, "Mom! Dad! Dawn _bit_ me!"

Barry shot Iris a playful smile and said, "Duty calls, sweetheart. I'll be back—"

"—don't you dare—" Iris smirked.

"—in a flash."

And just like that, Barry had sped out of the room to address their son's complaint. Alone, Iris activated the holo-computer in front of her, and opened a document titled: 'The Once and Future Flash: The Biography of the Fastest Man Alive.' After taking a deep breath, she hit play on her watch, and typed whatever came to mind as her husband's voice echoed out:

"_My name is Barry Allen and I'm…getting ahead of myself. Before I tell you my story…"_


End file.
